Mamo's Books and Music
by mermaidNZ
Summary: AU. Steve is an ex-SEAL, badly wounded in Afghanistan; Chin is an ex-violinist, branded a thief by the HPO. Together they own Hawaii's best classical music & book store. Then one day, a Jersey cop named Danny walks in with his daughter Grace... - Steve/Danny. - COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Rating:** R for language and non-explicit sexual content.

**Warnings:** references to chronic pain, combat injuries and deaths, and psychological trauma (including a PTSD flashback).

**Spoilers:** none – it's an AU where the only character who works in law enforcement is Danny.

**Author's notes:** this story started back in October as a little comment!fic over on LJ, and wound up being about 25,000 words long. This is the significantly revised and expanded version.

* * *

**Mamo's Books and Music, established 1968.****  
Proprietors: S. McGarrett & C.H. Kelly.**

A customer approaches the desk where Steve's pricing newly-arrived paperbacks. Steve looks up and says, "Yes, sir, can I help you?"

"Hey, man," the young guy says, "you got any _Romeo and Juliet_?"

Steve has been working in retail nearly ten years now, so he can maintain a professional demeanor in the face of idiocy far worse than this.

Smiling politely, he asks, "Do you mean the original play by Shakespeare? If so, would you like it in book, audiobook, or DVD form? There are also several dozen film, opera, and ballet interpretations to choose from."

The customer blinks at Steve. "Oh, uhh...the play, in a book. Yeah. I think."

"Right. Follow me, please," Steve says, and leads the way over to the Shakespeare shelf.

A couple more questions reveal that the guy's crushing on a theater major in his dorm, and is trying to impress her. Steve hands him a basic annotated edition, then convinces him that actually watching a staged version of the play would be even more useful than reading it. The customer walks out the door a few minutes later, clutching a cheap paperback and an expensive DVD.

As Steve slowly limps back to his desk, Chin looks up and grins. He's in the children's music section, trying to undo the chaos wrought by Mrs. Johnson's little hellions.

"Nice upselling, brah."

"Yeah, but I bet that girl will totally see through him," Kono adds as she picks up the pile of DVDs to go upstairs.

Steve shrugs. "Good thing we don't accept romantic wipe-outs as sufficient cause for a refund." He sits down again with a wince, and rubs his right knee – the increased aching suggests there'll be a storm soon.

He unlocks the desk drawer where he keeps his prescription meds, and glances around as he swallows one pill. It's pretty quiet this afternoon, after the usual influx of shoppers on their lunch break, so the spaced-out feeling his painkillers always produce shouldn't be too problematic.

In Steve's part of the store, Mrs. Keawe is amassing an impressive pile of books for her grandchildren and Dr. Suzuki is browsing the new biographies. A dreadlocked surfer is sprawled in an armchair, leafing through a coffee-table tome about Renaissance art. Two middle-aged German tourists are looking at illustrated souvenirs of Hawaii.

Nobody seems to need his help just now, so Steve reaches for his pricing gun again. It's a far cry from the weapons he used to wield, but he likes the feel of it in his hand.

Over in the music section, old Mr. Anderson is comparing multiple versions of _Porgy and Bess_ at the listening station. He calls out a question to Chin, his voice too loud – it's a mistake most people make while using the headphones. Nearby, two jazz students are arguing about which Thelonious Monk album to buy.

Still, it's peaceful compared to earlier, when those three preschoolers had run around singing Wiggles songs in wild disharmony. Even super-tolerant Chin had cracked, politely asking Mrs. Johnson to keep them under control. She had then stormed out, kids in tow. Steve's just grateful she didn't park them in the children's literature corner while she continued browsing...those shelves are untidy enough as it is. He'll head over that way once his knee's throbbing a little less.

Chin answers the phone at the music desk, and rolls his eyes at Steve: ah, it must be Mrs. Santos. She calls twice a week from her retirement village over on Maui, and she just adores Chin.

Today the elderly lady is after a recording of _La Traviata_, apparently. Chin goes to the opera section, pulls down half a dozen versions, and patiently reads out the cast listings to her. Then he opens the _Penguin Guide_ to check which ones get the top ratings.

Once Mrs. Santos finally chooses the rosette-winning Gheorghiu/Solti recording, Chin charges it to her credit card and packages the album up ready for the UPS guy. The whole process takes about ten minutes, but he remains calm and friendly throughout. The man really is a saint, as well as a brilliant salesman, and Steve would be lost without him.

With Chin's phone call over at last, Steve can eavesdrop on a much more interesting conversation happening up on the mezzanine floor. Kamekona's café is in its post-lunch lull, except for a group of teaching assistants from the University of Hawaii's history department. Their weekly off-campus meeting tends to consist of drinking coffee and ranting about undergrads.

They used to complain about faculty members too, until they learned two vital facts: many UH professors frequent this store, and sound carries really well in here.

One of the TAs is now panning a new film which claims the Earl of Oxford wrote Shakespeare's plays. Steve grins as he listens. His mother, head of English at Kukui High for the past 15 years, refuses to give anti-Stratfordian theories more than a passing mention in her classes. So she's spitting mad that high school English departments have been sent lesson plans based on this movie, encouraging students to question Shakespeare's 'true identity'.

Last week, she wrote a scathing reply to the production company responsible. Reading the email over her shoulder, Steve had choked with appreciative laughter. God, his mom can use words the way SEALs can use knives.

* * *

His pricing done, Steve leans back in his chair and stretches his leg out. He can hear Kono walking around upstairs, chatting cheerfully with a customer as she shelves DVDs. Though she's still pretty new to the retail business – they hired her after she graduated from film school last year – Kono just has a natural way with people.

Her ambition lies elsewhere, of course, but it's tough to break into the movie industry when you live in Hawaii and can't bear to leave. So Kono works here four days a week, in her dual roles as DVD department head and website wrangler. In her free time, she makes short films that show she's got serious talent. Everyone in her extended family seems to be creatively gifted, in one way or another.

Up on the mezzanine, Toast calls out to Kono. "Howzit, Spielberg. Just made Steve's afternoon coffee...you want something? I'm working on this new blend I think you'll love."

Ever since Kamekona hired him a few months back, Toast has been trying to design the perfect drink for Kono. Steve figures it must be the barista version of flirting. But it's a pretty hopeless crush, seeing as she's both gay and taken. Jenna, her computer genius girlfriend, designed the store's website and does awesome special effects for Kono's films.

Kono doesn't seem to mind Toast's attentions, though, so Steve hasn't said anything. And while Chin has strong protective instincts, he's learned the hard way not to interfere in his cousin's love life.

"I'm good for now, brah," Kono tells Toast, "but I'll take Steve's down to him."

Steve licks his lips in anticipation when he hears this. Toast makes the best coffee he's ever tasted, despite – or maybe because of – being a total stoner. He got the nickname because toasted PB&J sandwiches are his favorite munchies snack, or so he informed Steve on his first day working here. Toast delivers a caffeine fix to Steve twice daily, and it's like the nectar of the gods descending from on high.

Kono comes back downstairs, gives Steve his coffee, and gestures for Chin to join them at Steve's desk.

"Seriously, guys, I need more space for the DVDs," Kono says quietly. "I could barely squeeze in the new movies. I had to put some boxsets on the floor, propped up against the lowest shelf. It doesn't look good."

"I can't manage the stairs today," Steve says, warming his hands on the cup. He always feels colder when the pain gets worse. "Can you show me?"

Kono makes a quick trip to her domain above, and comes back holding out her phone. Steve raises his eyebrows as he looks at the photos she snapped. She wasn't kidding: the DVD section is definitely at maximum capacity.

"I know it's tight, but there's just not enough floor space for another fixed shelving unit," Chin says, frowning.

"What about a rotating display rack?" Steve suggests. "We've never used them before, because they usually have the cases sitting face-out. But there's a spine-out DVD rack in the latest catalogue, designed for easy browsing."

Kono looks thoughtful. "Yeah, I guess that could work...maybe for the documentaries? It'd be good to separate them out from the alphabetical run of movies."

"Sounds like a plan," Chin says. "And I'll weed the world music section, cuz, to try and give you another bay of flat shelves up there as well. There's some older stuff that can go straight into the sale bins – it's just not moving at full price."

"Hey, who knew Mongolian throat singing would be such a brief fad?" Kono says, deadpan, as she sits down to check for new online orders. Steve grins, because there really is some obscure shit in that section. Even Chin cracks a rueful smile as he heads back to his desk.

Chin has been reluctant to cede precious shelf space to Kono's ever-expanding collection, but he just can't argue with the numbers. The DVDs are moving faster than the CDs, these days, and there's a better profit margin on them too.

The balance of the store's business is shifting, Steve reflects as he sips his coffee. Book sales are mostly holding okay, but fewer CDs are selling now than even a year ago. People who love their specialty genres are generally too fussy about audio quality to download albums, legally or otherwise. But websites like Amazon are putting a dent in demand, despite the steep fees charged for shipping to Hawaii, and chains like Walmart are selling heavily-discounted popular classics and crossover CDs.

Steve and Chin would go broke if they even _tried_ to compete on price, online or offline. The 15% discount for the education sector more than pays for itself, though. Hawaii's libraries and schools still mostly order their classical and jazz CDs through Chin, and being located near UH's conservatory ensures a steady stream of music faculty and students.

And many other customers have stayed amazingly loyal, willing to pay a little more at a store where the staff know them by name, ask after their families, and tailor recommendations to their tastes. Some of the older folks have even been shopping here since Mamo Kahike opened the store, 43 years ago.

Back in 1968, the LP was king, the Walkman would have seemed impossibly futuristic, and the inventor of the MP3 probably hadn't been born yet. So much has changed over that time...Mamo himself has been gone for five years, now. But his store lives on, still named in his honor, and still offering the state's best classical and jazz selection.

* * *

Mrs. Keawe dumps a big pile of picture books on the counter, abruptly halting Steve's meandering train of thought – the pain pill must be kicking in already. Steve greets her with a smile, and they chat about her kids and grandkids as he scans her items.

She's eagerly awaiting the birth of her daughter Melissa's third child, due in February. Melissa went to middle school with Steve, and was generally considered the prettiest girl in their grade. Realizing that he found her twin brother Michael far more attractive was a major turning point for 12-year-old Steve, but that's not something he's ever told Mrs. Keawe.

Now that his medication has taken effect, standing up is bad but not agonizing. Steve grabs the cane propped against the desk, loads up his shelving cart, and limps out to patrol his territory.

He slowly moves between the shelves and tables, slotting the new books into place, tidying existing stock, putting appealing covers face-out, and noting which titles will need re-ordering soon. Steve likes being in control of this space; he likes being the person who connects publishers' supply to readers' demand.

This routine is one of the best parts of Steve's day, and something he's loath to miss even when every step hurts.

He greets the regulars he passes, and makes brief eye contact with the casuals. Chin and Steve's policy is to only start talking to customers who look like they want to be interrupted. It's a relaxed approach that distinguishes Mamo's from most chain bookstores.

The two tourists ask Steve's advice about pictorial books on Hawaii. It's just as well their English is good, because his German is minimal. Steve spent two weeks in Germany, once, but only saw the inside of a military hospital staffed by Americans. He was in no fit state at the time to go out and chat with the locals, anyway. Even when conscious, he could barely move or speak.

As usual, Steve saves his favorite corner of the store for last: children's literature. The picture books are in a _mess_...as much as he likes Mrs. Keawe, she's a very untidy shopper. So Steve sits on the carpet, his right leg outstretched, and starts re-imposing order.

With his hands following a simple, automatic routine, his mind is free to wander again.

It really is strange how his life has come full circle. His mother had regularly brought Steve to Mamo's when he was little, setting him down in this exact same spot to browse the kids' books as she shopped. To reward his patience, she'd buy him one book per visit.

Steve has such clear memories of sitting here, overwhelmed by choice, while Mamo showed Mom some new paperback or classical album she might enjoy. Just like at home, great books and beautiful music were intertwined in this place.

He loved the way Mamo treated him – always listening seriously, like Steve had valid opinions despite being so young. It was more attention than he got from his father, at the time, and he'd soaked it up. Mom introduced Steve to great literature as he grew older, but Mamo encouraged him to read about science and history and Hawaiian culture. He even gave 14-year-old Steve his first job, tidying the stockroom Saturday afternoons.

Mom was effectively a single parent for much of Steve's childhood, with her husband at sea for months on end. But Dad took a base job at Pearl when Steve was 15, and then tried to make up for lost time. Steve had increasingly striven to please his father, playing football and joining the Sea Cadets. Eventually, he'd followed Dad into the Navy.

In 2002, Steve had come home with a permanently busted leg, a shrapnel-scarred chest, a head full of fucked-up memories, and no clue what to do next.

Dad had been killed a year earlier, hit by a drunk driver while crossing the street one night. It was a stupid and senseless death, after a lifetime of serving his country. But at least Dad never saw what a mess his beloved Navy had made of his only son.

When Steve was in the rehab unit at Tripler, learning to walk again on his mostly artificial right knee, Mamo used to visit every Sunday and bring him reading material. And once Steve was close to being released from hospital, Mamo offered him an assistant's position in the book department.

Selling books had never been an ambition of Steve's, God knows. But with everything he'd lost by then, the chance to return to that familiar, comforting environment was too tempting to pass up. It helped that all the books were on the first floor, the store had flat access, and that Mamo volunteered to make other modifications to suit Steve's needs.

Retail was one hell of a change from the military, and it took Steve time to adapt. In some respects, though, it's surprisingly similar. There are routines that have to be performed, without fail, to ensure the smooth running of the operation: cleaning, ordering supplies, securing the perimeter, and endless goddamn paperwork.

Then there's the way long periods of steady toil are interspersed with bursts of intense action. Some battles can be planned for, like Christmas or the store's regular half-price sales. Others flare up without warning, like Oprah reviewing a book that's out of stock or Pavarotti dying and sparking a run on his back catalogue.

And Steve still calls men 'Sir', even if they're younger and dumber than him, because customers – like superior officers – must be kept happy at all costs. Whether they're always _right_ is another matter entirely.

The store runs on teamwork, much as the Navy did. But Steve's colleagues hadn't fought and suffered beside him like his old buddies did, so it took a while for him to lower his defenses and trust them.

Steve already knew and loved Mamo, so working with him was a reassuring source of continuity in those uncertain early days. Though he accommodated Steve's limitations, Mamo never pitied him for them. His matter-of-fact approach helped ease the abrupt transition from 'soldier with a chest full of medals' to 'civilian with a cane'.

In a funny way, Mamo's store manager helped with that too. Patricia Jameson strongly reminded Steve of his team's commanding officer, so following her orders was instinctive. Steve even called her 'Ma'am' to start with, but she insisted that she was 'just Pat'.

Pat was charming to customers – she could sell anything to anyone – but had a brisk, no-nonsense manner with everyone else. She had a better head for finance and bureaucracy than Mamo did, and drilled Steve in proper accounting methods. If Steve's any good at running a business, it's thanks to Pat as much as to Mamo.

* * *

Steve hears someone call his name and looks up from the picture books, blinking. Chin says, "Sorry, I need to borrow the shelving cart. Just got a whole lot of new Christmas CDs to put out."

"Man, already? It's only October." Steve rolls the empty cart towards him.

Chin shrugs. "Christmas creep, I guess. When it starts before Labor Day, we'll really know that the country is doomed. But hey, how's your knee? Give me a number."

"It's just the rainstorm building up," Steve says. "I'd rate it a seven, tops."

This is their usual exchange on Steve's bad days. It took him a long time to break the macho military habit of always claiming to be fine, but now he tells Chin the truth. Chin encourages Steve to go home if his pain level reaches eight, and practically pushes him into a cab if it's any higher.

Chin lays a sympathetic hand on Steve's shoulder, then heads off to shelve albums of climatically-inappropriate holiday songs. Steve's only ever had one white Christmas – Afghanistan, 2001 – and it's not an experience he'd care to repeat. He feels the cold so badly now, after everything that happened in those mountains.

Steve glances around, but sees only a few customers who seem happy to browse. Kono looks up from her computer and nods at him, indicating she's ready to handle any calls or purchases. So Steve figures he has time to re-alphabetize the chapter books, too.

He's damn lucky to work with people who make allowances for him: first Mamo, and now Kono and Chin.

Like Steve, Chin never planned on a career in retail...he was once a professional violinist with a very bright future. A frequent visitor to Mamo's, he used to buy multiple recordings of concertos he was learning, CDs of shorter and simpler pieces for his young students to study, and many special-ordered books about classical music.

Smart, funny, and modest despite his incredible talent, Chin soon became one of Steve's favorite customers. Both of them treated Mamo almost as a father figure. In fact, Steve remembers Chin haunting the store as a UH music student, back when he himself was just a teenager dusting the stockroom shelves.

But in 2003, Chin's musical career ended in scandal and ignominy. He was accused of stealing tens of thousands from the Honolulu Philharmonic, amounting to half its endowment fund. Though criminal charges were never laid, Chin was effectively blacklisted from every professional orchestra here and on the mainland.

Many of Chin's relatives also played in the HPO, and subsequently turned their backs on him. His teaching work dried up, too, with parents sending their kids elsewhere even if they begged to keep learning from Chin.

But Steve didn't believe it was true, as Chin is one of the most honest and honorable people he's ever met, and Mamo had no doubts. When it became clear that Chin's options were worryingly limited – gossip travels _fast_ in the international classical community, and Chin couldn't find any decent non-music work with such suspicion hanging over him – Mamo offered him a job.

Chin accepted gratefully, but giving up a lifetime's dedication to playing music in order to sell it instead really hurt him. And hiring Chin hurt Mamo financially; he lost some long-standing customers, including most members of the HPO. But together, the store and its staff pulled through.

At first Chin was just an assistant, like Steve, but then Pat declared that she was getting older and wanted to reduce her hours. So she took charge of the growing DVD collection, making way for Chin to become head of the music department. Over the years, he's become Steve's best friend too.

Six years ago, Mamo had a heart attack; a minor one, but he never fully recovered. He had no family of his own to inherit his beloved store, and didn't want to risk selling to a stranger who might destroy everything he'd built up.

Pat was planning to retire soon, but Chin intended to stick around. He and his wife Malia, who'd stood by him through it all, had a baby son by then and he needed some financial security. And Steve realized – almost to his surprise – that there was nowhere else he wanted to be.

Since neither of them could afford to buy him out, Mamo changed his will to leave Chin and Steve equal shares in the store. A year later, Mamo had a second, fatal heart attack while walking along Waikiki Beach. They buried him with his favorite book in one hand and his favorite album in the other, and vowed to keep the business going as best they could.

Steve and Chin have preserved his legacy, but not without making some changes. Developing a web presence was their first priority, since Mamo's sole concession to the e-commerce era had been an AOL email address. Now their online store takes orders from all over Hawaii, with cheaper and faster shipping than mainland-based websites. And Kono updates their Facebook page and Twitter account with info about special deals and upcoming events.

Chin went through the many thousands of CDs in stock, and weeded out any that had sat on the shelf for over five years – most did eventually sell, if only at 75% off. Then he expanded the Hawaiian music selection, so as to attract both locals and tourists, and built up the opera DVD selection too (many aficionados now prefer to watch staged performances, instead of just listening).

In the book department, Steve made his own strategic choices. He can't compete with stores like Target, which sell mass market novels at or below cost, so his main emphasis is now on literary fiction. He also established an LGBT section, since gay erotica is sold at the island's various sex shops but quality queer literature and non-fiction isn't.

And while Mamo always stocked a good range of local books, Steve's taken that even further by forming close ties with Hawaii's independent publishers. Many local authors now have their book launches here, catered by Kamekona, and the café hosts book clubs too.

Kamekona's café has been a highly successful innovation, period. Though cafés inside retail outlets are now common, they're mostly mainland chains selling generic food and crappy coffee. But Kamekona somehow produces amazing meals and snacks from his tiny kitchen, and uses only freshly-ground Hawaiian coffee. And it helps that Toast, his latest and best barista, seems to commune with the espresso machine on a _telepathic_ level.

Foot traffic through Mamo's has increased as word spreads about the café hidden away on the mezzanine, and people on their way to or from Kamekona's often make impulse purchases.

Stairs are a challenge for Steve, even on his good days, and there's no elevator or escalator in this old building (something else that will change, if Steve can ever convince the bank to loan them the money). Instead, Kamekona brings lunch down to him, free of charge. The guy's got some unusual ideas about sandwich fillings and salad toppings, but at least Steve is never bored. He's eaten much weirder food before, for sure, and anything's better than MREs.

* * *

"Excuse me," a voice says, "can I get some help here?"

Steve snaps out of his reverie, and sees a blond man standing over him with an impatient expression. Behind him, a familiar-looking girl with long braids is browsing the children's reference books on the opposite wall.

"Sorry, sir," Steve says, embarrassed to be caught off-guard by a stranger. Inattention like that could have gotten him killed out in the field. He reaches for his cane and tries to stand, but his goddamn leg has seized up. _Shit_...how long has he been sitting here in a painkiller-induced daze?

The customer leans forward. "Hey, you need a hand?" Steve grits his teeth and accepts the help, and together they get him vertical. Up close, he can see that the man is half a foot shorter than him – but powerfully built – and has stunning blue eyes. God, he's gorgeous.

"Thanks for that," Steve says. He leans on his cane and tries to look calmly professional, ignoring the shooting pains from his knee. "Now, how can I help you?"

"I'm after some books for my daughter, and she says you're the guy to ask."

The little girl behind the customer turns around and says, "Hi, Mr. McGarrett!"

"Hey, Gracie," Steve says with a grin.

"Wow," the man says to Grace. "Monkey, you weren't kidding about being a regular here."

"Oh, she's one of my favorite customers," Steve confirms. "Quiet and polite, great taste in books, clean hands: I couldn't ask for better."

She beams at him, and then announces, "Mr. McGarrett, this is my dad, Danno. He just moved here from New Jersey."

Ah, that explains it. Steve's only ever seen Grace with her mother before.

"Nice to meet you, Danno. I'm Steve," he says, extending his hand. Grace's father shakes it firmly.

"Danny Williams," he says. "Only my daughter gets to call me 'Danno'."

Steve nods his understanding. He wouldn't have tolerated Mamo's nickname for him, 'Stevie', from anyone else. Realizing he's held onto Danny's hand a fraction too long, he lets go and asks, "So, what are you looking to buy today?"

"Gracie's class is just starting a project on sea creatures, and she wants to read ahead," Danny says.

It's one of the stand-by topics for Hawaiian elementary schools – Steve studied something about oceans or beaches at least once a year, as a kid – so he always makes sure to have a good selection in stock.

Steve looks at Grace, who's been watching them intently. "Okay, no problem," he tells her. "Do you want to know about all kinds of sea creatures, or just the ones that live around Hawaii?"

"I think we're only studying local animals, but I want to learn about all kinds...especially dolphins." Grace spots a new collection of fairytales with a pink glittery cover, then, which diverts her attention.

Steve glances at Danny and murmurs, "I can show her a bunch of books to choose from. How many are you looking to get?"

Experience has taught him that it's better to ascertain a parent's limits first, before tempting kids with things they can't have. And while Steve knows Grace's mother is wealthy, he suspects her father isn't.

Danny spreads his hands. "She left Newark in July and I couldn't make it out here until yesterday, so I've got a backlog of book-buying to catch up on," he says. "I think I can afford a few. And hey, better marine biology than _Hannah Montana_ tie-in novels, right?"

"I don't stock those, anyway," Steve says, and Danny laughs.

"Thank Christ for that. They're about all my nieces back home ever read."

Steve picks out four possibilities for Grace, who sits in a child-sized chair and leafs through them. Danny watches her, so much love in his expression that Steve's breath catches.

Two of the titles are quickly dismissed as 'too babyish'; Grace short-lists the others.

"Hey, would you like to see the grown-up books about marine life as well?" Steve asks. "Some of the words might be a little hard for you, but there are really great photos."

"Yes, please," Grace says.

"You can just point us in the right direction, if you want," Danny adds. "I'm guessing your leg is pretty sore right now." His tone is understanding but not pitying, and he doesn't stare at Steve's cane.

"Actually, I need to keep it moving," Steve says. It's true enough, but mostly he wants to maximize his time with the two of them.

He limps across the store, ignoring Chin's curious gaze. Over by the front window, Steve takes two large hardbacks and a small paperback off the shelves, and hands them all to Grace. Danny claims a nearby armchair, pulling Grace and her haul onto his lap. They look through the books together, his cheek pressed against her smooth brown hair. She reads some sections out loud, and he helps her with the advanced vocab.

Steve stands a couple of yards away, flexing his knee. To stop himself staring at Grace's father, he focuses on re-alphabetizing the biographies. Steve doesn't understand why he's so drawn to the guy. He's seen plenty of loving dads in this store, reading with their kids, and many of them are handsome too. So why is this one so incredibly appealing?

Maybe it's that Danny has been apart from his daughter for three months, and just endured a 12-hour flight to get here. But it seems like he wasted no time, after their reunion, in finding out Grace's current interests and feeding her voracious appetite for knowledge.

When Steve's father used to return from a six-month deployment, he'd want to throw a football around or climb a mountain or take Steve down to see the ships at anchor. It wouldn't have occurred to Dad to ask what books Steve was reading, or to buy him more; he left all that stuff up to Mom. She was better qualified, sure, but Dad didn't even make the attempt.

It was only when Steve started trying in earnest to live up to his expectations that the two of them connected. Making Dad proud had led him into the military, and eventually to Afghanistan. In his darkest moments – usually at dawn, after a night of pain and dreams – Steve wishes Dad had stayed at sea.

Outside, the late afternoon storm signaled by Steve's aching knee is here. There'll be a downpour, soon enough.

* * *

Steve is rearranging the travel display by the time Grace makes her final selection: the children's book about dolphins, the pocket guide to Hawaii's marine life, and a large hardback of underwater photographs taken around Oahu.

Pointing to the cover of the last book, Steve tells her, "I've been down to that reef a bunch of times – it's so beautiful."

Grace's eyes widen. "You go diving?"

"I used to, yeah. My dad took me snorkeling as a kid, and I learned to scuba dive as a teenager. Then I did a lot of diving during my time in the Navy."

Danny looks from Steve's face to his cane, and must make the logical assumption. "Okay, Gracie, let's go buy these books," he says, heading off any more questions.

Steve nods at him gratefully. He's used to kids asking about his injury, but the truth is too hard for him to tell and too much for them to hear. Instead, he spins tall tales about marauding pirates, wicked witches, or invading aliens.

Grace has never asked, though she seems curious about everything else in the world. But then her mother, a woman who seems to wear her British politeness like a suit of armor, is usually hovering nearby.

At the check-out, Grace says, "Hey Danno, can I get that book of fairytales too?"

"Sorry," Danny replies, "educational books only today."

She looks up at him, her expression imploring. "Please?"

Steve's seen many parents capitulate in the face of much less adorable begging; Danny just shakes his head. "Nope, sweetheart, no dice. I missed you real bad these past three months, but I'm still immune to the pouting and the puppy-dog eyes."

Grace's lips quirk up, and her father goes on. "I'll make you a deal, okay? If the book is still here when we come in next time, and you still want it, we'll buy it then."

She sighs but agrees, and wanders over to the window to watch the rain. For his part, Steve is both impressed by Danny's parenting skills and stupidly pleased to hear that the guy's already intending a return visit.

Danny looks outside too, and frowns. "Damn. It's really bucketing down now, and I don't have an umbrella."

"I can lend you one," Steve offers, as he wraps their books in a plastic bag. "We keep a stockpile here, for customers caught out by afternoon showers."

"Yeah, that'd be great. But wait, did you seriously just call this torrential rain a _shower_?"

"Welcome to Hawaii," Steve says with a grin, handing over an umbrella big enough to shelter Danny, Grace, and her precious purchases. "I suggest you invest in a decent umbrella, if you're planning to stick around."

"I'll be here for as long as Gracie's here," Danny says, but he doesn't exactly sound overjoyed about it. Then he smiles, and it brightens his whole face. "Anyway, thanks for your help. You're real good with kids – you got any of your own?"

Steve shakes his head. "I just remember what it was like, being that age and wanting to read everything in this place. And Mamo never talked down to me, so I try to follow his example."

"You shopped here as a kid? Wow, that's some history." Danny looks around as if seeing the store through new eyes.

"Danno, I'll be late for dinner," Grace calls, and Danny looks at his watch and swears under his breath.

"Gotta go, or else Rachel will _not_ be amused. See you, Steve."

"Bye, Danny," Steve says. Grace waves at him from the door, and he gives her the shaka sign that always elicits a delighted smile.

Steve limps back to his desk – it's getting near closing time, thank God. Chin looks up and says, "Been a while since you got talking with a father like that."

"I talk to a lot of dads...moms, too," Steve protests, and it's true. He loves dealing directly with kids, but helping parents is also an important part of the job. It can even be enjoyable, if they're receptive to his advice.

"Sure. But that girl's been coming in here for months, and I think I've had more conversations with her mother than you have."

Steve shrugs as he sits down. "That's because Mrs. Edwards keeps special-ordering all that English choral music. She doesn't ask me about kids' books, and you _know_ I try not to bug parents unless they need help, Chin."

Chin holds up his hands in surrender. "Okay, fine. Clearly I was just imagining the spark between you and her ex."

"Sorry, brah," Steve sighs. "I like him, yeah, but knowing my luck he's straight as an arrow." Steve doesn't trust his own gaydar; 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' made him paranoid about reading guys wrong, and hitting on customers could be bad for business.

Putting Danny out of his mind, Steve gets on with his end-of-day routine.


	2. Chapter 2

Danny and Grace Williams don't visit the store again for a week, and life goes on as normal. Steve meets with publishers' reps (he's not nearly as intimidating as Pat was, but they seem to respect him), places orders, pays the bills, and is polite to even the most irritating customers.

And after work he heads home, eats dinner with Mom, washes the dishes, does paperwork or watches TV, and then reads until he falls asleep.

She was the one who'd suggested, in 2002, that he should move back into the family's beachfront house once he got out of hospital. But Steve was initially reluctant, ashamed of how he'd come to depend on his mother again, like a little kid.

During her daily visits to Tripler's rehab unit, Mom had encouraged him to keep going with the painful physio exercises – distracting him with stories about school, and not taking it personally when his frustration boiled over. And she had listened while Steve spoke haltingly about Afghanistan, but didn't push for more than he was able to share.

Steve hated the thought of being a burden to his mother, and hated the prospect of her seeing just how bad his flashbacks and nightmares were. But Mom pointed out that she had helped Dad cope after Vietnam, and assured Steve that he'd be welcome in her home no matter what he was going through.

She never pulled a guilt trip on him, or dwelled on her own situation when they talked, but Steve came to realize how much Mom herself was suffering. Recently widowed and still grieving, she'd been rattling around in a house too big for one person...and then her only child was sent back to her from a distant warzone, disabled and traumatized.

So, for Mom's sake as well as his, Steve eventually gave in. Once the VA-subsidized renovations were done, creating a bedroom and accessible bathroom on the first floor, he left rehab and went home.

Nine years on, Steve's doing far better – both physically and psychologically – but hasn't moved out again. The two of them have a frank discussion, every now and then, about whether sharing the house is still working out: remarkably, it is. He and Mom enjoy each other's company and have some common interests, but lead separate enough lives that there's minimal friction.

Mom has an active social life, but hasn't dated in the decade since Dad's death. She says that nobody can replace him in her heart, and that Steve, her friends, and her students are enough to keep her happy.

Hawaii being Hawaii, the several thousand kids she's taught are like a giant _'ohana_. Mom can't walk down the street without someone calling out, 'Aloha, Mrs. McGarrett!' There have even been baby girls named Cynthia in her honor. The oldest one that Steve knows of, Cynthia Delacruz, is now a freshman at UH.

Steve has dated on and off, occasionally women but generally men. Luckily, Mom's always been accepting of his orientation; he'd come out to her at 13 (and to Mamo at 14), but never told Dad. While Steve doesn't usually bring guys home for sex, he does introduce the most promising long-term prospects to Mom.

'Long-term' is a relative concept, though. Steve has tried online dating, as well as frequenting the island's gay venues, but none of his relationships have lasted more than a few months. He's growing tired of putting himself out there...tired of having the same awkward conversations over and over. Most days, he finishes work and goes straight home.

Friday nights are the exception, as Chin, Steve, Kono and Kamekona usually go out for dinner and drinks after closing. Steve and Kamekona don't tend to stay too late – they have to work Saturdays, even if the other two don't – but it's a nice weekly ritual.

The four of them often end up at a Honolulu gay bar, since he and Kono are queer and their co-workers are some of the most laidback, open-minded people Steve knows. After eight years in the Navy, and in the closet, it's such a relief to work in a homophobia-free environment.

The Friday after meeting Grace's father, Steve looks around at the other patrons with more interest than usual. Though it's been a while since he hit the scene, maybe his strong instant attraction to Danny means he should start trying again. But none of the guys really appeal, and Steve is home by 10pm.

* * *

The following Wednesday afternoon, Steve is finishing up the Halloween-themed window display. It's a cheesy but fun Mamo's tradition that Steve remembers from his own childhood.

Kono did the actual decorating, seeing as she's got both creative talent and the physical ability to kneel and crouch down. Steve is now filling the shelves with a selection of scary kids' books, from teen horror novels to classic ghost stories. Just for fun, he adds one of his old favorites, _The Monster at the End of This Book_ (the original Grover version, of course, not the one with Elmo).

His vantage point means he sees Grace and Danny coming down the sidewalk before they see him. Steve immediately notices that Danny is wearing three unexpected things: a gun, a badge, and a tie. And it doesn't escape his attention that Danny looks even more handsome in the sunshine, his hair a warm gold and his eyes a brilliant blue.

_Jesus_. Steve's starting to sound like those trashy romances he refuses to stock.

Grace looks like she'd rather be running than walking, and when she notices the Halloween display she tugs her hand out of Danny's grasp and darts over. Steve pulls a funny face at her through the glass, and she giggles.

"Hi, Mr. McGarrett," she says as she comes inside. "Is my fairytale book still here?"

"Hey, Gracie. Yeah, it's right where you left it."

Actually, Steve sold the last copy Thursday, and immediately restocked so she wouldn't be disappointed. That's one of the advantages of dealing with local publishers – he just had to make a call, and Kawika stopped by with another dozen copies that same afternoon. It's a popular new title, so Steve would have prioritized reordering it anyway.

Grace races through the store, finds her prize, and sits down to read.

Her father approaches at a more sedate pace. "Yo, bookman. Am I buying a pink glittery book today?"

"It's a fate you can't escape," Steve says, mock-solemn, and Danny shrugs.

"Not when you have an eight-year-old daughter, apparently. Rach and I tried not to force too much girly stuff on Grace...we wanted to give her choices, you know? But the pink phase happened anyway."

Steve leans over once more to check the display, then stands up straight and stretches out his back. Danny looks away, his attention evidently caught by the rainbow flag hanging above the door. Pointing at it, he says, "Hey, does this mean the same thing here as on the mainland?"

Danny doesn't sound hostile, just curious. So Steve says, "Yeah, it does. Hawaii's Gay and Lesbian Business Association started this initiative a couple of years ago, to identify queer-owned and queer-friendly establishments." Steve hesitates, then adds, "Since I'm on the Association's board, I figured we should fly the pride flag with, you know, _pride_."

"Huh," Danny says. "What a great idea. I wish more businesses in Jersey did that – it's always nice to know where you'll be welcome."

Steve raises a questioning eyebrow at him, and Danny nods slightly. It's a cliché worthy of a Harlequin novel, but Steve feels like his heart skips a beat: if Danny's queer, then Steve just might have a chance with him.

He's still looking at Danny, and Danny's still looking at him, when someone behind him says, "Excuse me, boys." Steve turns, and realizes that they're blocking the doorway.

"Sorry, Miss Lawson," he says, stepping aside to let the old lady past. She's shopped here since the '70s, and enjoys reminding Steve that he was a first-grader missing both front teeth when she met him.

With the Halloween display done, Steve heads back to his desk. Danny keeps pace with him.

Steve gestures at Danny's badge and says, "So you're with the Honolulu PD now, huh?"

"That's stunning detective work," Danny drawls. "Maybe you should be the cop, with observational skills like that, and I should get paid to sit around and read all day."

"I don't read –" Steve begins indignantly, because that's one of the most annoying misconceptions about book retailing. But Danny's lips twitch, and Steve realizes he's teasing. "Well, I don't get _paid_, anyway. I live off the store's profits, such as they are."

"How long have you owned this place?"

"Five years. And I'm the co-owner, actually," Steve says, nodding towards Chin who's on the phone. From his pained expression, it's Mrs. Santos again.

"Oh, right," Danny says. "So is he your partner?"

"Business partner only," Steve says hastily. "Chin's straight, and I'm single."

It might just be wishful thinking, but Danny's expression seems to brighten with every word.

Grace is still absorbed in her prospective purchase, so Steve starts packing sale-or-return hardbacks into a box. It's good to have a mindless task to occupy his hands right now. He feels slightly jittery, like he used to get before parachuting into a warzone.

Danny leans against the wall beside his desk, watching Steve work. "Anyway: yes, I'm a detective. I just transferred to HPD's homicide unit."

"How are you finding it so far?"

"Since I only started today, so far I've found my desk and the coffee machine and not much else. My new partner Meka seems cool, but some of the others aren't so welcoming. A couple of guys referred to me as a..._haole_, I think?"

"Yeah," Steve says. "That can mean 'outsider', 'mainlander', or just 'white'. Some native Hawaiians would call me a haole too, even though I was born here; some would say I'm _kama'aina_ – a local – but you're a haole. It can be a factual statement or an insult."

"Definitely an insult, judging by their tone," Danny says.

"Hopefully things will improve once they get to know you. It might help if you tried to adapt a little. Lose the tie, for a start."

"I like to look professional," Danny objects. "You got a phobia of ties or something? Wait, don't tell me: you enlisted in order to avoid restrictive neckwear."

"Navy dress blues require a tie, actually," Steve points out.

Danny looks Steve up and down, as if picturing him in uniform, and Steve feels his cheeks warm under the scrutiny.

"You had to wear a blue dress in the Navy, Mr. McGarrett?" Grace asks, approaching the desk and breaking the mood. Steve chokes on his surprised laughter – God, the things kids come up with – but Danny keeps a mostly straight face.

"No, monkey," he explains. "You know how I sometimes put on a dark blue uniform, to go to police ceremonies or funerals? That kind of special formal outfit is called 'dress blues', and people who serve in the Navy wear them too."

Grace nods, apparently satisfied with that, and hands the collection of fairytales to Danny. His resigned look changes to admiration as he pages through it. "Wow, this artwork is fantastic," he says, giving the book and his credit card to Steve.

"Yeah, isn't it great? Cath Rollins is a local illustrator, and she's very talented."

"I love the pictures," Grace says, "especially the ones of the princesses' dresses."

Steve takes a flyer from beside the cash register, and passes it to Danny along with his receipt. "Hey, you guys might like to check out this free exhibition over in Pearl City. It's a showcase of Cath's works for children. She does some realistic paintings, including underwater scenes, as well as fairytale stuff like this."

"Oh, awesome." Grace tugs on Danny's hand. "Can we go now?"

"Didn't you want to go to the beach today?"

"Yeah, but we can do that anytime," she counters. "I want to see the pictures instead. Please, Danno?"

"Well, I guess it sounds more fun than those art galleries your –" Danny cuts himself off, presumably to avoid criticizing his ex in front of Grace. "Okay, sure, let's go. Steve, is the place hard to find? The satnav in my rental is playing up, and I hate trying to map-read in traffic."

It's 4pm on a quiet weekday afternoon. Steve has no reps scheduled, and he's up to date with his paperwork. He tilts his head at Chin, who's only been pretending not to eavesdrop, and Chin nods. After all these years, their silent communication is pretty effective – still, Steve misses the near-telepathy he had with his old teammates.

"If you'd like a navigator, I could come to the gallery with you," Steve offers.

Grace's smile lights up her face; Danny looks at her, then at Steve. "Yeah – that'd be great, thanks."

Grabbing his cane and other essentials, Steve follows the two of them out the door. As he passes the music desk, Chin murmurs, "I can close tonight, so don't hurry back from your play-date." Steve flips him the bird, with a grateful grin.

* * *

Steve's pleased to see that Danny's rental is a four-door sedan, not too low to the ground. He maneuvers himself into the passenger seat with only minimal pain; with Grace sitting in the back behind Danny, Steve can push the seat right back and stretch his leg out fully.

He gives Danny directions to get across Honolulu and out the other side, avoiding the already heavy congestion on H1 by taking alternative routes. Since Danny needs to concentrate on the unfamiliar roads, Steve turns to Grace and asks how her project on Hawaii's marine life is going.

She tells him what she's learned this past week, both in class and from the books Danny bought. Her memory for detail is pretty impressive, for a kid her age, and she only stumbles on longer scientific words and complicated Hawaiian names. Danny's probably heard all this already, but he just grins proudly and asks Grace prompting questions as he drives west.

"The most common sea turtle in Hawaii is called _honu_," Grace concludes, "and it has a green shell. But there are other, smaller ones which are very rare."

"That's right," Steve says. "I used to spot green turtles quite often when I went diving. I only saw a Hawksbill turtle once, though. I was with my Dad off the coast of Molokai, in deep water, and it glided right above us. I wish I could have gotten a picture, but waterproof cameras were too expensive back then."

"Wow, that's so neat. What other animals have you seen underwater?"

Danny glances at Steve, like he's concerned about bad memories getting stirred up. But Steve smiles at him reassuringly. Whatever regrets Steve might have about the past, learning to dive and going on those boat trips with his father aren't among them. He and Dad really did bond over their shared love of the ocean.

So he tells Grace about seeing reef dwellers of every shape and color, about watching fish get snapped out of the water by plunge-diving seabirds (mentioning that some are called 'boobies' makes her giggle), and about swimming with dolphins.

Predictably, this last story has Grace begging for details. Steve keeps talking – interspersed with 'take the next left' and 'straight ahead for four blocks' asides to Danny – until they reach the Pearl City gallery.

It's a small, alternative place, run by a collective of artists based out here in Leeward Oahu. Luckily for Steve, the exhibition space is on the first floor. He's only been here once before, for the gallery's inaugural show last year. Cath had invited him to the opening of her solo showcase a month ago, but it was the first night of the store's fall sale and he was working flat out.

As they walk across the parking lot, glimpses of Cath's colorful work are visible through the glass doors. Although Steve's familiar with her paintings, seeing so many in one space is still breathtaking. Cath herself is sitting at the foyer desk, absorbed in a large sketchpad, and she's plenty breathtaking too...just as beautiful now as she was back in high school.

It's hard to believe it's been 19 years since Cath asked Steve out – he'd intended to ask her to the upcoming dance, but was still gathering his courage. On their first date, they went for sushi. He planned to impress her by piling on the wasabi, until she pointed out that it'd make their lips burn too much to kiss. They ended up making out in the back row of a movie theater, entirely neglecting to watch some big dumb blockbuster.

After graduation, they reluctantly split up: he enlisted, and Cath went away to art school. When she came back from the mainland, a couple of years after Steve, the romantic spark had faded but they still hooked up every so often. Then Cath fell for a local children's author, Laura Hills, and she and Steve have been platonic but close friends since.

Cath looks up in surprise as the three of them enter, then gets up to hug him. "Steve! I'm so glad you finally made it."

"Hey, Cath. Better late than never, right?" Steve gestures at his companions. "Catherine Rollins, this is Detective Danny Williams – he just moved to Hawaii – and his daughter Grace. She's a new fan of your work, after buying a copy of your fairytales book today."

Danny shakes her hand, and Grace says a shy hello. "Hi," Cath says with a welcoming smile. "I'm really pleased you like my art, Grace. Do you want to wander around the exhibition by yourself, or would you like a guided tour?"

Grace glances uncertainly at Danny, who says, "Whatever you choose is fine, sweetheart."

"Can I look around with my dad first, then come back if I have any questions?"

"Sure thing," Cath says easily. She's great with kids – unlike Steve, she has younger siblings and lots of cousins.

Danny takes Grace's hand, and they start with the fantasy section: princesses, fairies, and various creatures from folklore. Steve sits at Cath's side, leg propped up on a chair.

"Mind if I keep drawing?" she asks him. "I'm behind on this Christmas commission. Some millionaire wants a giant painting of his son riding a dragon, because what else can you give a six-year-old who has everything? I need to show the guy a rough version by next week."

Steve gestures for Cath to go ahead, as he's always loved watching her work. She returns her attention to the sketchpad where a red and gold dragon is taking flight, a small boy clinging to its ridged back.

He tries to limit his covert glances at Danny, but Cath can read him too well. She murmurs, "You really like this guy, don't you."

When he just sighs, she asks, "Does he swing your way?"

"Yeah, and I think he might be interested," Steve tells her quietly. "But he's a cop, and a father, and recently divorced. And he's only been here a week."

"Stop borrowing trouble," Cath says. "Taking it slowly is fine, but I _know_ you, Steve. You'll risk your life for other people without hesitation, or contort yourself to please them. But when it comes to something you want personally, you talk yourself out of even trying."

Cath's always told him the truth, whether he wants to hear it or not, and this time Steve can admit she's right. Even before the injury that narrowed his options, he was never all that ambitious for himself. And now he's stuck in a nice, comfortable, safe rut.

His expression must be bleak, because she pats his hand comfortingly. "Hey, at least your crush got you out of the store during daylight hours. When did you last take time off to do something _fun_?"

Steve can think of only three occasions this past month when he's left Mamo's on a workday: a physio session, a dentist's appointment, and a plumbing contractor's emergency call-out to the house. All involved pain, whether physical or financial. Okay, so Cath has a point there too, but still...

"Running a store is an all-consuming job," he argues.

"So Chin never has a long lunch with Malia, or goes on fieldtrips with Kai's class, or leaves early to attend his piano recitals? Or, God forbid, takes a vacation?"

"That's different," Steve says weakly, and Cath rolls her eyes at him.

Over in the corner, Grace is now staring with fascination at a series of works depicting characters and events from the islands' rich mythology. The sight sparks a thought in Steve's brain.

"Hey, you know that collection of Hawaiian myths you did a few years back with Laura...is it still out of print?"

"The book that brought us together," Cath says, smiling at the memory. "And yeah: you sold the final copy last Christmas, remember? Kawika only did a small initial run, because he wasn't sure of the demand. Maybe now that our fairytales book has done well, he'll be able to afford the reprinting costs."

"Any chance you've got an extra one lying around? I think it'd be a great gift for Grace."

Cath shakes her head. "I sold or gave away all my spares. Laura probably still has some in her study, though. She's such a hoarder."

Steve has never seen Laura's home office – it's only accessible via a spiral staircase – but living with an English teacher gives him a pretty good indication. He grins at Cath. "Could you check with her, please?"

"Sure. If she finds a copy, don't be surprised if you get charged a premium; Laura's way more hard-nosed than I am." When Steve just shrugs, Cath laughs a little. "You've got it _bad_ for that girl's dad, brah."

"Gracie was already one of my favorite kids, months before I met Danny," Steve insists, but it sounds pathetic even to his own ears.

* * *

Having made their way around the whole exhibition, Danny and Grace have returned to the wall of underwater paintings. She seems transfixed by one particular work, eyes shining and lips parted as she gazes at it.

It shows a dark-haired girl in a pink dress and silver crown, sitting on a rock by the ocean. A mermaid with sleek black hair and an iridescent blue tail is floating before her, head and shoulders out of the water. She is offering a string of pearls to the princess with a shy smile.

Steve knows enough about art to appreciate the way the image is balanced – landscape rising above the waterline to the left, and seafloor sloping away to the right. The lush flowers and colorful birds on the trees overhanging the beach are echoed in the coral branches and reef fish below the water. It's a stunningly beautiful painting, all told.

Danny leaves Grace's side and crosses the gallery. In a low voice, he asks Cath, "The works that don't have red stickers are still for sale, right?"

"Yeah," she replies, equally quiet. "And since it's the final week of the show, I'm offering 20% off all unsold pieces."

Steve quirks one eyebrow at Cath ('really?') and she nods slightly ('I didn't reduce the price just for the sake of your crush, dumbass').

"Excellent...that'd help a lot," Danny says. If he notices their silent byplay, he doesn't comment on it. "Gracie has totally fallen in love with that mermaid one over there, because seriously: you couldn't have designed something more perfect for her if you'd _tried_. And as it happens, her birthday's in a week. I think your painting would really brighten up her bedroom at my new apartment."

"That's a great idea," Steve comments. "We lived in base housing when I was a kid, and personalizing my room in each new place definitely helped me adjust."

"Oh, you're an Army brat?"

"Navy," Steve replies. Danny gets this odd look on his face, like he's just connected some dots.

Cath says, "So with the discount, that'd be $120. Do you want to come back and collect the painting Sunday, when my show closes, or would you like it delivered to your place next week?"

"Having it delivered Monday or Tuesday night would be ideal," Danny says. "That way, I can hang it up and then surprise Grace on Wednesday."

He bends over the desk, writing down his address and phone number. Steve does not stare at the way Danny's pants show off his very nice ass, no sir. Cath says nothing, but he can tell she's laughing at him on the inside.

"All right, I'll call you to confirm the best time," she tells Danny once he straightens up. "Payment on delivery is fine – either cash, or a check made out to me. Thanks for supporting a local artist, Detective Williams."

"Thanks for helping me make my daughter happy, Ms. Rollins," Danny says, shaking her outstretched hand. Then he calls out, "Time to go, Gracie."

Reluctantly, Grace walks away from the painting that she now unknowingly owns. Back in the foyer, she tells Cath, "Your pictures are so pretty. I really like that one with the princess and the girl in the water."

"That's one of my favorites too, so thank you," Cath says. "It was lovely meeting you, Grace. Maybe we'll see each other again sometime."

Grace says goodbye, much less shy now than when she'd arrived. After a farewell hug and a fierce whisper of 'Go for it, you _deserve_ it' from Cath, Steve collects his cane and trails the others out.

"All right, monkey, are you hungry?" Danny asks Grace.

She nods, and Danny looks at Steve. "Want to join us for dinner? If you don't need to get back to work or head home, I mean?"

With Chin closing the store tonight and Mom directing a rehearsal for the school play, there's nowhere Steve needs to be – nowhere else he _wants_ to be, if he's honest with himself. "Sure. Dinner sounds great."

"Awesome," Danny says. "In that case, local boy, can you lead us to a decent but not too expensive place to eat around here? Better to get something now than fight our way home through rush-hour traffic, I figure."

"Yeah, that makes sense. Okay, what do you guys feel like? There's Japanese, Chinese, Korean, and Italian options nearby...plus a diner that does chili and hamburgers."

Danny wrinkles his nose. "I haven't been impressed by the pizza here, so far, and I'm not a fan of sushi or kimchi. So: Chinese or burgers, Gracie?"

"Burgers," Grace immediately replies. "Mommy hardly ever lets me eat them."

"She's right, of course," Danny says solemnly. "They're okay as a treat, though."

Steve gives Danny directions to the Pearl City branch of Zippy's, then tells Grace, "My mom was strict about healthy food, too. But my dad was in the Navy, and he used to spend months at sea. The meals served on board were very boring, so when his ship docked he'd have a serious craving for Hawaiian-style fast food. He'd bring me to this diner, and we'd eat all the things he'd missed."

"What kind of ship was he on?" she asks. They'd passed Pearl Harbor en route, and she'd stared with fascination at the anchored vessels of the US Pacific Fleet.

"The biggest kind of all: an aircraft carrier, which is like a floating city. It can hold almost 6,000 people."

"Wow." Grace tilts her head. "So what kind of ship were _you_ on?"

"Oh, I traveled on lots of different ships, over the years – and airplanes and helicopters, too. But I really can't talk about what I used to do, Gracie. It's classified, which means it's a secret."

Danny gives him an assessing look; his detective brain has probably put it together by now, from the bits and pieces Steve has revealed. He changes the subject, though, saving Steve from more questions.

* * *

Inside the busy, brightly-lit diner, Danny does a double-take at the unfamiliar items on the menu board. "Jesus, Steve, what is this place?"

"An island institution," Steve says with a grin. "Zippy's has been going since the '60s, and there are branches all over Oahu. They started off just serving chili, but now they do all kinds of local favorites. The teri burgers are great, too."

At Danny's blank look, Steve explains, "They're cooked with teriyaki sauce, which is tangy-sweet."

Danny seems dubious, but orders a teri burger with cheese for Grace and chili for himself. Steve gets loco moco, a rare indulgence for him these days. He tries to stay in shape, even if he can't swim far or run at all anymore.

When his meal arrives, Steve can't help laughing at Danny's disgusted expression. "Loco moco is a Hawaiian specialty, okay? I know it looks gross, but it's fantastic."

Grace declares her burger to be yummy, and Danny grudgingly admits that the chili's good. "I didn't expect to find decent Mexican food, here. We're a long way west of the border."

"The Tex-Mex stuff you get in most parts of the US is actually quite different from true Mexican food," Steve says. "I've eaten a lot of spicy food in a lot of countries, but a tortilla in the Yucatan is the only meal that's ever made me cry from the pain. You can even get chocolate-coated chilies, there."

The idea makes Grace giggle into her fruit punch.

"I've never even left the country," Danny says, sounding envious. "Hell, this is the first time I've been west of the Mississippi. I was born and raised in Jersey, all my relatives live in the northeast, and we mostly vacationed down the Shore."

"You didn't visit the UK with your ex?"

"Nope, we couldn't afford it. Rachel took Grace back there a few times, to see her family, but it was too expensive for me to tag along."

"Plus, Granny doesn't like you very much," Grace adds, and Danny chokes on a mouthful of chili.

"Yeah, that's true too," he admits, once he recovers. "But you have to realize how sad your grandmother was when Rachel decided to stay in America with me. She missed her daughter, which is something I can totally understand. And hey, think of it this way: if your mom had never come to Jersey, and never crashed her car into my patrol car that day, then _you_ would not have been born."

It's Steve's turn to do a double-take. "That's really how you two met?"

"Swear to God," Danny says with a rueful grin. "No wonder our relationship was full of fireworks, with a start like that."

For the rest of their meal, they stick to more neutral topics. Grace talks about her new pet rabbit, and about the upcoming field trip to the Waikiki Aquarium. Danny describes some of his amusing but PG-rated cases, and Steve tells a few customer stories.

"So Mr. Anderson came in one day and said, 'There's this piano music, I think it's by Bach, and it sounds like rolling ocean waves'. That was all he knew. Since Bach wrote at least 200 piano pieces, it was a real challenge...but somehow, Chin managed to find the right one straight away. The old guy was so happy he had _tears_ in his eyes."

Although Danny grins appreciatively, Grace makes a face. "Mommy wants me to learn piano, like she did when she was a kid. But I don't want to."

"You should, Gracie. It'll be good for you, and you'll probably be glad of it when you're older," Danny says.

"Studying music helps you do better in school," Steve adds. "Scientists have done research that proves it. Also, playing an instrument makes your hands really strong and flexible."

She sighs. "Yeah, but the piano tutor at my school is really old and kind of mean. And when Mommy took me to meet a private teacher in our neighborhood, she had all these cats that made her house smell funny."

Steve stifles a smile. "Well, I know a piano teacher who's young, nice, and doesn't own any pets," he offers. "His name is Max Bergman. He loves playing all kinds of stuff, not just classical, and he lets his students choose music they like. Lots of local kids get lessons from him."

This description makes Grace perk up a little. Steve adds, "And hey – you know Chin, the guy who works with me at Mamo's?"

"Mr. Kelly?" Of course; Rachel is always formal with the store's staff, so Grace wouldn't know his first name. Steve nods, and she says, "Yeah. He's the one who helps Mommy get the CDs she wants."

"Finding music for people is Chin's superpower," Steve confides, making Grace grin. "Anyway, his eight-year-old son Kai learns piano from Max, and thinks he's awesome."

Danny says, "Sounds good. Could you give me the guy's contact info?"

"He's a regular customer, but I don't have his number." After a quick search, Steve finds Max's website and holds his phone out so Danny can note the relevant details.

"Thanks," Danny says. "I might be able to convince Rachel that Grace having fun is more important than her becoming the next Vladimir Ashkenazy."

Steve must look surprised, because Danny spreads his hands. "What, you think a cop can't be cultured? Rach got all the classical CDs when we split, but I still listen to a classical radio station to help me fall asleep."

"Sorry," Steve says, and means it. "People make assumptions about military folks being ignorant too, so I should know better. Yeah, I sometimes listen to music when I can't sleep, but mostly I just read. I get through a ton of books that way: take them home from work, read them in bed, and bring them back."

Danny raises an eyebrow. "The store's like your private library, huh?"

"Yeah." Steve grins. "There have to be some benefits to being the boss, right? And it means I can give personal recommendations to my customers."

"So what chapter book should I read next, Mr. McGarrett?" Grace has been listening with her chin propped on one hand.

"You know, you can call me Steve if you like," he offers, and she beams at him. "Okay, let's see. You bought _The Secret Garden_ last month, right – did you like it?"

When Grace nods, he continues, "Maybe you should try _A Little Princess_, which is by the same author. The main character, Sara, really loves reading. Plus, she ends up making friends with a monkey."

"Cool," she says, and yawns widely.

"Time to go, sweetheart," Danny says gently. "How about you use the bathroom before we head home?"

Once she's gone, Danny asks, "How about a good book that I could read to Gracie? Something about another world, with magic or talking animals or whatever. With the crap I see every day on the job, it's kinda nice to visit someplace else when I'm off-duty."

God, can Steve ever relate to that. He used to read anything he could find, on deployment, but definitely preferred novels that carried him far away.

"She's just started reading _Harry Potter_ by herself, and we've already done most of the _Narnia_ books," Danny adds.

"Well, there's always _The Hobbit_ – my mom read it to me when I was little. And I think Grace is old enough for some of Tamora Pierce's books, which are set in a magical, medieval-type world. They all have strong, determined, talented girls as the main characters."

"Great," Danny says. "Maybe you can show me those ones next time we come in."

Steve checks his watch, and is surprised to see it's 8pm already...the time has flown by. "You don't have to get her back to Rachel tonight?"

"Nope; I'll have custody every Wednesday and Saturday night from now on. I'm not exactly happy with my new apartment, but at least it's on the same side of the city as Rachel's mansion and Grace's posh school."

"Sacred Hearts is expensive, yeah. It has an excellent reputation, though," Steve says.

"And it's Catholic," Danny continues, "which pleases my very devout mother. Grace was in public school back in Jersey – so for Ma, her getting a parochial education here is the only upside of us moving so far away."

"It must have been hard, leaving your family behind."

Danny shrugs. "My father's long gone, and my sisters are busy with their own lives. They've got a couple of kids each, now. My brother Matt works at a top New York law firm, so I barely see him. And Ma's unending disappointment over my divorce was hard to take when I already felt like crap. I miss them all, yeah, and it'll probably be worse come the holidays. But honestly, it's good to get some space and distance."

"Space and distance was all I had, growing up," Steve says. "I'm an only child, and Dad was too. I never knew his parents; Mom's family lived on the mainland, so I hardly saw them. And Dad was away more than he was here, until I was 15."

"Is that when he started pushing you to join the Navy?" Danny asks, then raises his hands apologetically. "I'm a detective, so I'm incurably curious."

"It was more encouragement than pressure," Steve says, "and I wanted to please him, make him proud. Was your father a cop?"

"No, he's a firefighter, and I was gonna be just like him. But when I was 16, we found out he'd been cheating on Ma."

"Ouch," Steve says.

"Yeah. So Ma kicked him out, he went to live with his much-younger mistress, and I went off the rails for a while – did some stuff I'm not proud of. But this beat cop in my neighborhood, Salvatore, he must've thought I had potential. He got me into a boxing gym, which helped calm me down, and then he and Ma convinced my high school principal to give me a second chance. Sal kinda kept an eye on me after that...mentored me, I guess. So once I graduated, I went straight into the police academy."

Danny turns to look across the room, then, and Steve follows his gaze. Grace is lingering by the far wall, close to where a local boy is having his noisy, joyous birthday dinner. Her expression as she watches the kids laugh suggests she misses her friends from home.

Maybe Steve should introduce Grace to Kai, who – in addition to being one of Max's most promising students – loves books and the beach. He thinks they might get along.

Grace wanders back to them. Danny, whose sharp eyes seem to miss nothing, hugs her close. "Hey, are there some nice girls from school that you want at your birthday party next weekend?"

She nods, yawning again. "Mommy's inviting my whole class. There's gonna be a shave ice cart, and a magician, and a giant bouncy castle."

Danny rolls his eyes at Steve, where Grace can't see, but says, "That sounds so neat, monkey. Okay, let's get going."

* * *

Grace is dozing by the time they reach the H1 onramp. "Where do you want me to drop you off: at the store, or at home?" Danny asks Steve.

Steve gives his address. "I don't drive anymore, so I usually carpool with one of my friends – or my mom. I live with her," he explains, at Danny's questioning look. "She has the second floor, and I sleep downstairs."

He's afraid Danny will be put off, but he just nods. "Your mother must be better company than mine, then. I stayed living at home as a trainee and rookie, but moved out as soon as I got a pay bump. Ma drove me _nuts_."

"Mom and I get along fine, but we give each other lots of space. It works out pretty well."

When they pull up outside Steve's place, Grace opens her eyes and looks around, blinking.

"Well, I had a great time with you guys," Steve tells Danny, then turns to face Grace. "Thanks for letting me tag along."

"I had fun too," she says with a sleepy smile.

Steve maneuvers himself out of the passenger seat, checking his pockets to make sure he's got everything. Danny looks like he's about to say something, but Grace tugs on his sleeve so he twists around to listen to her whisper.

Then Danny calls to Steve, "Hey, wait up," and gets out of the car.

After they've taken about a dozen slow steps towards the house – Steve's leg is always worse after a long day – Danny abruptly says, "So there's a DVD that Grace is keen to see: a Disney nature documentary, called _Oceans_. We're going to rent it this weekend, and she'd like you to watch with us."

Danny ducks his head, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know if you'd want to spend your Saturday night with an eight-year-old, watching underwater footage when you can't go diving anymore, but I promised her I'd ask."

The unexpected yet very welcome invitation leaves Steve stunned for a moment. "Well...all right, sure. I'm working Saturday until 6pm, but I have no plans afterwards. I think I can handle any bittersweet nostalgia that arises from seeing the movie. So if you don't mind sharing your limited time with Grace, I'm in."

"I think I can handle any jealousy that arises from her thinking you're cooler than me, just because you swam with dolphins once," Danny says with a grin. "Okay, great. Now all I need to do is buy a TV and DVD player, since it wasn't worth shipping my crappy old ones out here. Can you suggest a local electronics store with prices that won't make me cry?"

"Sure – but if you want to hold off on your spending spree, we could watch it here instead," Steve offers. "I've got a big HDTV screen and a Blu-Ray player."

Danny tilts his head. "Your mother won't mind having her space invaded?"

"She plays cards with friends every Saturday night, so we'd have the house to ourselves."

"That'd be fantastic, thanks," Danny says. "We'll pick you up from the store at closing time, then."

They're standing on the front porch now, and Danny turns to go. But Steve thinks about what Cath said earlier, about letting himself try for what he truly wants.

"Hey, listen: I really enjoy talking with you," he tells Danny in a rush. "You draw me out, somehow. I think I've said more about myself today than I have for _years_."

Danny looks at Steve for a moment, biting on his lower lip. "You're feeling this vibe we've got going here, right? It's not just me?"

"It's not just you," Steve breathes, reaching out to touch Danny's wrist. "God, I definitely feel it too. And I want...I want to see where it takes us."

"Well, Grace is already a big fan of yours, which takes care of one major hurdle," Danny says. "Maybe we could talk Saturday, after she's asleep?"

"I'd like that, yeah." Steve squeezes Danny's hand, and they smile at each other. Then Steve goes inside, and Danny heads back to the car.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the next few days, Steve has to endure enquiries about Danny from Mom and Chin, suggestions from Cath (supportive) and Kono (salacious), and good-natured ribbing from Kamekona and Toast.

He discusses the Danny situation with the three most important people in his life, but reminds the other three that he's their boss and can fire them. Since Kono is Chin's favorite cousin, Kamekona's café is helping keep the store afloat, and Toast is basically Steve's caffeine dealer, that threat is pretty much empty and they all know it.

At Friday night drinks, Steve doesn't even bother checking out the many hot people in the bar. He just wants to go home and get a decent night's sleep, so he only stays half an hour.

When Steve announces that he's heading off, Chin gives him a thumbs-up and wishes him good luck with Danny. Kamekona grins at him, or rather leers, and says he'll prepare an extra-special 'power lunch' tomorrow to boost Steve's mojo.

Kono tells Steve to 'be gay with _style_, for a change': she vetoes his usual polo shirt and cargo pants, insists he dig out some nice pants and that short-sleeved blue shirt he hasn't worn for a while ('it makes your eyes pop and shows off those arm muscles'), and threatens to show up at 8am to check his outfit.

Steve hugs Chin, rolls his eyes at their wonderfully helpful employees, and limps out to get a cab.

Though he goes to bed early, he's too jittery to sleep. He tries the relaxation exercises he learned in hospital, but his mind keeps churning with everything that's happened with Danny so far and everything Steve _wants_ to happen. He knows it's stupid to get his hopes up – Christ, he barely knows the guy, hasn't even spent six hours in his company yet.

Still, there's something special between them, a chemistry Steve hasn't experienced since he fell for Cath 19 years ago. That was a teenage romance, which faded into a deep loving friendship with occasional benefits. But this is two adults with a lot of baggage, a lot still to learn about each other, and a lot more to lose.

Around midnight, Steve finally gives up and takes a sleeping pill. He doesn't like sedatives, but as he gets older he can't function so well after a bout of insomnia. There's no way he could survive Hell Week now, even if his knee wasn't ruined.

When Steve gets up, he puts on the clothes Kono suggested (he honestly wouldn't put it past her to swing by for a uniform inspection), lets Mom kiss his cheek for luck, and heads to work. The store is crowded all morning, as usual on a Saturday, and he's kept busy enough that there's not much time to think about Danny.

At lunch Kamekona serves him a very odd assortment of food, even by his unorthodox standards.

"I looked up aphrodisiacs on the internet, brah," he tells Steve with a wink. "All this kine is meant to get your juices flowing, if you know what I mean."

Steve thanks him, glad that there are no customers with delicate sensibilities nearby. Everything on the plate tastes good, at least, so Steve eats without arguing.

A big group of gay and lesbian passengers arrive off a cruise ship, mid-afternoon. Mamo's is listed in guidebooks for its wide LGBT selection, and the 'pink dollar' is a welcome boost to takings. Steve makes recommendations, answers questions about the local scene, and sells dozens of books, CDs, and DVDs.

Danny and Grace show up 20 minutes before closing. Steve can only wave to them, as he's busy selling Mr. Suzuki a birthday gift for his wife. Dr. Suzuki is a long-standing customer, so Steve was able to suggest some new books she might enjoy. The store takes returns, of course, but he prides himself on choosing right first time when the recipient's a regular.

Grace heads for the children's books, where she finds a copy of _A Little Princess_. She sits in her favorite chair and starts reading; Danny picks up _The Hobbit_ and pages through it.

Steve serves nine customers in a row as the clock ticks towards 6pm. Leilani, the UH music student who minds Chin's department on his day off, walks around telling people that Mamo's is about to close.

A young man who's been immersed in a history of The Beatles looks up, startled, like he'd totally lost track of time. Steve picks him as a browser, not a buyer, so is unsurprised when the guy puts the book down and leaves. Once, Steve would have called it the downside of providing armchairs. But when he and Chin tried removing some of them, a few years ago, the browsers sat on the floor instead and blocked the aisles. And their regulars – especially the elderly ones – complained so much that the comfy chairs made a permanent comeback.

Leilani works her way around to the kids' section, but Steve shakes his head at her before she can approach Danny and Grace. So she goes over to shut the doors, flipping the 'open' sign to 'closed'.

Steve heaves a sigh of relief. "Okay, guys, I should be ready to go in ten minutes. But if you're buying today, I need to run the transactions now so I can close out my register."

"You want that one, monkey?" Danny asks Grace.

"Yes, please. I really like it so far."

Gesturing to the paperback Danny's holding, Steve says, "Hey, I still have the illustrated hardback copy that my mom read to me. I'd be happy to lend it to you."

"Cool, thanks." Danny puts _The Hobbit_ back on the shelf. "So tell me, bookman: how exactly do you stay in business, if you talk customers out of buying stuff?"

"Oh, I'm a fantastic salesman, usually," Steve replies. "I just make exceptions for people I really like." Danny grins at him, eyes crinkling at the corners, and Steve smiles back.

Grace hands _A Little Princess_ over. Holding it open to the page she's up to, Steve scans the barcode. Once Danny has paid, Steve gives it back and Grace keeps right on reading.

Though he wants to get going, Steve doesn't rush through his end-of-day routine. Chin's a forgiving man, but not so much at 8:45 on a Sunday morning. So Steve counts out the register floats for tomorrow and files all the paperwork in its proper place.

And Charlie, the Chaminade senior who minds Steve's department Sundays, is a meticulous guy who likes starting the day with a clear desk. He's one of Mom's favorite ex-students – she'd suggested him when their last part-timer graduated and headed to the mainland – and so far he's working out great.

Danny wanders over to the non-fiction section, picking up a coffee-table book about the architecture of Manhattan. A few minutes later, he calls out to Grace.

"Look, here's a great photo of your Uncle Matt's building." He holds up the book to show a huge edifice, all mirror glass and gleaming steel. "Remember how we watched the 4th of July fireworks from his office?" Danny asks, and she smiles.

His wistful tone makes Steve's heart sink: Honolulu would look small and provincial to someone used to such skyscrapers. But he reminds himself that it's been only two weeks since Danny left his lifelong home for a place that must seem very foreign, despite being part of the same country. It'll take him a while yet to adjust, just like it took Steve time to transition from military to civilian life.

"Okay, I'm done here," Steve declares, after locking the day's very pleasing takings in the safe. "I was thinking I'd cook tonight, unless you've got a craving for take-out?"

Grace looks hopeful, but Danny says, "Nope, sweetheart, once a week is your limit. I, on the other hand, pretty much live on fast food at the moment. So a home-cooked meal would be a nice change."

"All right, no problem. I'm not exactly a gourmet chef, but I can manage spaghetti, tacos, pork chops, chicken stir-fry..."

"Ma is Italian and I miss her cooking, so pasta sounds good to me," Danny says. "Gracie?"

She nods. "Can you make it with mushrooms, please? Grandma always puts them in spaghetti sauce."

"Sure thing. Okay, let's head to the grocery store."

Kamekona already left two hours ago, and Leilani has finished her assigned tasks. She takes one last look upstairs, in case there's a customer lurking in a back corner, and turns out the lights. Steve ushers his guests out the door, sets the alarm, and secures the perimeter. It amuses Chin when he says that, but some habits are too hard to break.

Steve says goodbye to Leilani, and follows Danny to his rental.

"So will HPD assign you a vehicle, or will you have to provide your own?"

Danny groans. "I gotta buy one. And man, new car prices here are _insane_. I know the shipping costs must add to the cost, but still...ouch."

"You can get something near-new at a good price, thanks to all the ex-rentals," Steve suggests. "And plenty of military folks get transferred off the island and sell their cars, some still under warranty. Chin bought a decent used sedan recently, so he could probably give you a list of reputable dealers."

"That'd be a big help," Danny says. "I was kinda hoping to buy new for the first time in my life, but I guess Hawaii is not the place to achieve that aspiration."

At the grocery store they split up, Steve picking up lean ground beef and Danny finding vegetables both he and Grace are willing to eat. They meet in the beverage aisle and Steve says, "Hey, you guys should try this great local soda – natural flavors, and no artificial sweeteners."

Grace wavers between the fruit flavors, and then goes for pineapple. Danny grimaces at the very thought, and chooses cream soda. Steve is quite fond of the pineapple one, but he's hoping to kiss Danny later tonight. So he gets cream soda too.

* * *

As the traffic's not so bad on weekends, they get to Steve's place in good time. Danny carries the sack of groceries inside, and stops dead.

"Jesus Christ," he says, "that's a lot of books."

Grace follows Danny into the living room and stares around at all the shelves, wide-eyed.

"Feel free to look at any books you want, while I fix dinner," Steve tells her. He leaves his shoes by the front door, as usual, and the others follow suit. "Or you could go out onto the beach, watch the sunset."

"You have your own beach?" Danny asks.

"Yeah, but it's not exactly Waikiki." Steve crosses the room and pulls the blinds up, revealing the lanai, the lawn, and the narrow strip of pebbly sand lapped by small waves. It's a calm evening, so he unlocks the lanai door to let the breeze in.

Grace looks torn between her two great passions, but the ocean wins. "Danno, can I play outside?"

"Sure. Just remember the rules: don't step on a turtle or get eaten by a shark." She giggles and nods.

"Hold up a second, Gracie," Steve says, rummaging in the storage closet. Mom gets visited by ex-students sometimes; last month, it was a couple who fell in love while playing Beatrice and Benedick in her production of _Much Ado_. Their young daughter, Cynthia, left her slippers behind and nobody's come back to collect them.

"The beach is stony," he warns, handing Grace the cheap rubber shoes. "I'll lend you these, so you don't cut your feet."

Danny flashes him a grateful smile, and says to Grace, "You can go into the water, but keep the flip-flops on and don't get your clothes wet. Come inside once the sun's gone down, okay?"

"Okay." She rolls her jeans up, and heads for the beach.

"The linen closet is at the top of the stairs, if you want to grab a towel for her," Steve tells Danny. "I'll get dinner going."

In the kitchen, Steve pours himself a big glass of water and takes small sips. So far, so good, he thinks.

He starts by dicing an onion. The kitchen's been adapted for him, so he leans heavily against the counter's padded, protruding edge to take the weight off his knee. Danny comes back downstairs with a towel and perches at the breakfast bar, where he can simultaneously see Grace playing and Steve chopping.

"You say you're no gourmet chef, but you're damn good at that," Danny observes.

"Practice," Steve shrugs, tipping the onion into the pan. He'd usually add lots of garlic next, but with the possibility of kissing in mind he skips straight to slicing red pepper and carrot. "I started helping out with the cooking when I was in middle school, because my mother had gone back to teaching full-time."

Steve doesn't mention the advanced knife-handling skills he learned later on.

"Ma never let me near the kitchen, except to wash the dishes. She's a teacher too, actually. She supervises remedial reading at the parish elementary school."

"Damn, that must take the patience of a saint," Steve says. "Mom teaches high school English and drama. She loves it, but it's such hard work. I sure couldn't cope with it."

"So did she always correct your grammar? Christ, Ma drove me _crazy_. I'd start a sentence with, 'Me and my friends –' and she'd cut in: 'My friends and _I_, Danny'. Then we'd argue about why, because I thought it was a dumb rule. And I would either forget what I'd wanted to say, or decide it wasn't worth telling the story after all."

Danny looks so aggrieved at the memory that Steve has to grin. "Mom wasn't that bad. But obviously you wound up a very fluent speaker, despite the interruptions."

"If you mean I talk too much and too fast, then yeah."

"No, not at all," Steve says, meeting his eyes. "I like listening to you."

Danny flushes a little. "God, where are my manners – can I help with something?"

"Sure." Steve adds ground beef to the sizzling onions. "Stir this, so it doesn't burn."

Standing at the stove, beside Steve, Danny gestures at the living room. "So are these books yours or your mother's?"

"The ones along the left wall are mine," Steve says, "and the rest are hers. She's been shopping at Mamo's since before I was born."

Danny sighs. "You were so lucky, growing up with all this."

"Yeah. I took it for granted as a little kid, though; I remember being surprised when I visited friends' houses, and there were no bookshelves anywhere."

"Ma always made sure we had some books of our own," Danny says, "even if they were from thrift stores, but mostly we haunted the library. With four kids, money was tight long before my dad split."

"I used to wish I had siblings. And I think Mom would've had a bigger family, if Dad was around more; I know she wanted a daughter. It was just so tough for her to do it all alone, especially when she had no relatives here to help."

"Oh, that was the one thing Ma never lacked. She had two older sisters, her mother, and several aunts all living nearby." Danny rolls his eyes. "But she got loudly-expressed judgments on her childrearing ability as much as actual support."

Outside, Grace has found some washed-up _limu_. She's spinning in circles, strands of the pink-red seaweed trailing from her hands like ribbons. Her upturned face is lit by the setting sun.

Steve nods towards her as he adds mushrooms to the pan. "Well, you've done a damn good job on the childrearing front: she's such a great kid. I've met kids that might be smarter, in IQ terms, but their social skills often suck. Grace can have a real conversation with adults, yet still run around and have fun like that."

Danny's face softens as he watches her dance. "Yeah, she's a gift all right. I regret a lot of things that happened with Rachel, but our daughter will never be one of them. I'd follow Rachel to Timbuktu, if I had to, just to stay part of Grace's life."

The love radiating from him is almost too much to bear. Turning away, Steve busies himself with opening a can of diced tomatoes.

"You ever think of having children?" Danny asks.

"I haven't dated anyone, male or female, that I'd consider raising a kid with," Steve admits. "To be honest, my longest relationship was with Cath back in high school."

"Really? I wouldn't have picked her as your ex. You two seem so close."

"People often think we're _married_," Steve says, "even though she's been with Laura for years. They've talked about Cath having a baby, maybe with my help, but it's still a ways off."

Danny nods. "You would be an awesome dad."

"How can you tell? You hardly know me," Steve counters.

"I've seen you with Grace. And I have a parent's instincts, plus a cop's gut feeling. You've been through bad times, Steve, but your heart is still good."

"Thank you," Steve says, touched by Danny's calm certainty.

* * *

Grace appears outside the lanai door, then, and kicks off her wet sandy shoes. Danny kneels down beside her; she puts her hand on his shoulder for balance as he dries each foot in turn.

"That was _fun_," she says, breathless.

Standing up, Danny winces a little, as though he has knee trouble too. "Okay, let's get you cleaned up before dinner."

"You can use my bathroom," Steve tells him. "It's through that door, and to the left."

Danny nods and leads Grace away.

The bathroom opens off Steve's bedroom, but it's often used by visitors to the house. He's a very neat person anyway – thanks to Mom and the Navy – so there's nothing too personal on display. And maybe it's a good thing for Danny to see the modified shower and everything. If they're going to try for an actual relationship here, he needs to know the extent of Steve's disability.

With the sauce simmering and the pasta boiling, Steve starts putting together a salad. Not even the health-conscious Rachel could object to this meal, he thinks.

That leads Steve to wonder whether she might object to him and Danny dating. If it's a serious obstacle, Danny will tell him soon enough. If it's not, well, Steve can live with her disapproval. Losing Rachel as a customer won't make him lose any sleep, so long as Danny can still bring Grace in.

He limps around the kitchen, getting everything ready. His knee is throbbing, after such a busy day, but he doesn't want to take a prescription pill and space out on Danny. A couple of OTC painkillers will dull the edge, though.

"Hey, Danny, could you please grab the Tylenol bottle from my medicine cabinet?"

"Sure," Danny calls back.

"You have even more books in your room," Grace says admiringly when they return. Danny hands the Tylenol to Steve without comment, and watches him swallow two.

"Yeah, we ran out of space in the living room a while back. My mom is a teacher, so she has even more upstairs in her office."

Grace goes over to the shelves and tilts her head to read the titles. "When I'm bigger, I'm going to have my own library."

"Books don't grow on trees, you know," Danny teases. "How are you gonna afford them all?"

"They do too! And I'll be a famous scientist, or – or a deep sea diver who finds treasure. Or maybe I'll marry a handsome prince."

With a straight face, Danny says, "Well, it's good to keep your options open."

"Okay folks, dinner's ready," Steve announces. "Want to eat on the couch while we watch the movie?"

"That could get messy," Danny warns.

"I'm not a _baby_," Grace says, tone reproachful. "I'll be nine in four days."

Danny grins at her. "No, monkey, I meant me – you know how eating spaghetti the proper Italian way, with all the fork-twirling, can send sauce flying."

"Don't worry, Mario: the upholstery is washable and this old carpet's seen far worse."

It's true. Most of the damage was caused by Steve pushing himself too hard during his recovery. There were stumbles leading to spilled coffee or dropped plates, and falls resulting in nosebleeds and tears of anguished rage.

Danny studies his face, glances at the stained carpet, and shrugs. "At least give us napkins, okay?"

They fill their plates with food, grab their sodas (Danny pouring Grace's into a glass), and head for the living room. Steve gets the DVD playing, then claims his special armchair – the adjustable fold-out tray saves him from putting any weight on his bad leg. Grace looks at his set-up with interest, but doesn't ask about it. She and Danny sit on the couch.

_Oceans_ is amazing...far better than Steve would have expected from a documentary aimed at kids. As a former diver, he can appreciate the technical brilliance and supreme patience required to film everything from shrimp to turtles to humpback whales. The movie makes him miss the underwater world, sure, but it also shows him things he'd never have seen for himself.

He sneaks occasional looks at Grace and finds her utterly spellbound, eyes wide, mouth open. Danny looks interested enough in what's on the screen, but having his happy daughter at his side seems to give him the most contentment. He catches Steve's eye and smiles, warm and pleased.

Steve definitely wants to see more of this side of Danny. He wants to see more of Danny, period.

The credits eventually roll, and Grace slumps back against the couch cushions with a yawn. "Wow. That was _so cool_."

"What was your favorite part?" Danny asks.

"The way the dolphins jumped in the air and spun right around," she declares. "The baby turtles were real sweet, too."

"I liked the seals best," Danny replies, but he's looking at Steve.

Steve bites his lip, and says, "The beluga whales were beautiful."

When he moves to clear up, Danny waves him back. "Least I can do, after such a great meal." He carries their plates to the kitchen, rinsing them and stacking the dishwasher. Steve folds away his tray and stretches, flexing his knee. The Tylenol has reduced the pain to a steady low-level ache, the kind he's grown used to ignoring.

Danny comes back with three glasses of water, and Steve accepts one gratefully. Grace comes back from the bathroom, yawning widely; it's 9pm, and probably past her bedtime.

Steve is half-expecting Danny to postpone their planned conversation and take her home. But Danny says, "Like we discussed earlier, sweetheart, I'm going to talk to Steve now. How about you take a nap here for a while? Or you can read, if you're not sleepy yet. We'll be close by, so call out if you need me."

Grace's gaze flicks from Danny to Steve as she sips her water, and he wonders just what Danny has told her. She puts down the glass and says, "Okay, Danno." Curling up on the couch, she rests her head on the embroidered pillow one of Mom's AP students made.

Danny leaves _A Little Princess_ on the table within easy reach; Steve dims the overhead lights a notch, then grabs a blanket from the closet. Danny covers Grace with it, kissing her cheek. She murmurs something to him, and he presses his forehead to hers as he answers.


	4. Chapter 4

With Grace settled on the couch, Danny straightens up and says quietly, "I saw some chairs out on the patio. Can we go sit there?"

"Sure," Steve replies, and leads the way. He thinks about turning on the outside light, but decides he'd prefer the cover of semi-darkness. Danny closes the door behind them, and positions himself so he can keep an eye on Grace.

"It's such a nice night," Danny says, looking up at the stars. "That's one upside of Hawaii, I guess. In Jersey it's _snowing _right now, and it isn't even November yet."

Just the thought makes Steve shiver. "Growing up here meant I wasn't really prepared for mainland winters. The place where I trained wasn't so bad; after that, though, I was stationed on the Virginia coast for a while. Winter there would be mild by your standards, but even with no snow it was too cold for me."

Danny laughs, and they sit silently for a moment. Steve doesn't know what to say next, how to shift the conversation away from the goddamn weather – and from all the things he now associates with the freezing cold.

Abruptly, Danny asks, "How did you cope, being queer in the military?"

"For most of my career I was too busy and traveling too much to date anyone, male or female," Steve explains. "But yeah: I hated putting up with anti-gay jokes in silence, and worrying about being found out every time I was with a guy."

Danny nods. "And since you became a civilian, have you had much luck on the romance front?"

This is stuff Steve rarely talks about, and only with Chin or Cath. But with Danny, Steve feels that total honesty could be worth the risk.

So he takes a deep breath and says, "No. It took me a long time to start trying again; I was pretty messed-up when I got out. Nine years later, I'm a disabled veteran who lives with his mom. Hardly the greatest catch, right? Some people like my face, but freak out about my injuries. Others say they're fine with it, and then get annoyed by my limitations. Even just walking at my pace can seem like too much to ask, sometimes."

Steve knows he must sound bitter – but fuck it, he _is_. He hid his sexuality in order to fight for his country, had his body and mind scarred in its defense...and then came home to find the dating pool disappointingly shallow.

"Christ, babe," Danny finally says, "you've been dating jerks and idiots."

"Oh, don't get me wrong," Steve adds hastily, "there have been a few gems too. But yeah, that's one of the things I like about you. In the hours we've spent together so far, you've been more considerate and respectful than some of my actual lovers."

Danny deflects this praise with a shrug. "You learn to be patient, as a parent. And as a cop you learn to read body language: when to offer help, and when to back off."

"Or maybe you're a fundamentally decent guy," Steve counters, "and my luck is looking up."

"Hey, if you want to see it like that, I won't stop you," Danny says, his smile crooked. "I've been short on positive affirmation since my marriage imploded."

Deciding it's time to turn the tables, Steve asks, "So what about you? Have you dated much, post-Rachel?"

"Yeah, some. Once I pulled myself together enough to be sociable, I hit the singles bars. But I found myself looking more at the men than the women." Danny spreads his hands. "I'd always known I was bi, even if I didn't do a whole lot about it before I got married. So I decided to go out there, and see what I'd been missing. I met some cool guys, had some good times, but it was all pretty casual."

"Are you still looking for something casual, now?" Steve really hopes the answer is 'no', and is relieved when Danny shakes his head.

"Since it seems like I'll be here long-term, I thought I'd try for an actual relationship. So I was planning on checking out the local scene – but once I'd settled in and got my bearings, you know? I did not anticipate walking into a bookstore, the day after arriving in Hawaii, and getting hit by a goddamn _thunderbolt_."

Steve's breath catches. "Yeah," he says softly, "I hear you."

"Gracie had practically dragged me to Mamo's, saying she wanted me to meet her friend, Mr. McGarrett." Danny laughs. "I expected some grandfatherly guy in a cardigan, with gray hair and glasses. You were one hell of a hot surprise."

"So does Grace know you're queer?" Steve asks, feeling his cheeks warm and hoping Danny can't see it.

"Yeah, I told her last year. She knows I'm interested in you, and she totally approves."

"I'm honored," Steve says solemnly, and Danny grins at him.

"Hell, she even wished me luck, when I kissed her goodnight before."

Steve smiles back, and decides not to mention his mother doing the same thing this morning. "What about Rachel, though?"

"She always knew I was bi, and was okay with it. Even during our custody negotiations, which got unpleasant, she never brought it up as an issue. And the fact that she's already met you, and seen you interact with Grace, should help smooth the way."

Steve breathes a sigh of relief, glad to hear Danny's access to Grace isn't under threat. Then he steels himself, and leans forward.

"Listen," he says, "I haven't felt this attracted to anyone in _years_. When I'm around you, it's like I'm...a better version of myself. But I don't have much at stake here, Danny. I'm out, I'm a local, and I run my own business. You've got more to lose, so it's really up to you."

Danny is silent for a long moment. After a glance towards Grace, he turns back to Steve.

"Well, I'm out to the only people who truly matter, here. And HPD has solid anti-discrimination policies, better than back home, so it might not be a disaster if I'm open at work. My partner Meka seems like a tolerant guy, at least, and I don't care if the rest of them disapprove. I'm there to solve crimes, not to socialize."

He shifts his chair closer, careful not to jostle Steve's right leg. Steve sits still, and waits.

"I had to uproot myself and move 5,000 miles from home," Danny continues, "because my ex-wife decided to marry a man who's about a million times richer than me. And my reward is getting to see my daughter just twice a week, while a paid driver picks her up from school most days."

Danny stops, and takes a few deep breaths.

"What I'm saying is, I'm kinda messed-up, too. But I want to find someone who can...help me be happier, I guess." His grin flashes in the dim light. "You're at the head of the line here, bookman, so come on: show me what you got."

And after that, it's surprisingly easy for Steve to reach out, to cup Danny's jaw, to bring his face within kissing range. It seems so unbelievably right to press his lips to Danny's, to lick at the corner of his mouth, to shiver as Danny's tongue touches his for the first time.

Steve closes his eyes and just _feels_, learning the taste of Danny's mouth and the texture of his skin. A gentle bite to Danny's lower lip makes him moan, a quiet sound that reverberates between them. And while Steve wants to find out what else will elicit that low, hungry noise, he can't bear to stop kissing Danny yet.

Danny rests one hand on Steve's left knee as they kiss, rubbing back and forth – a simple touch, but it feels so good. When Danny lifts his other hand to stroke down Steve's chest, though, Steve jumps and the spell is broken.

Pulling back, Danny says, "Too fast?"

"I've got shrapnel damage across my chest," Steve explains. "The scars are pretty numb, so it doesn't hurt. You just took me by surprise, is all."

Danny nods, and squeezes Steve's thigh gently.

"Speaking of moving too fast, though," Steve says, "sitting like this isn't so comfortable for me. I could stand up, if we lean against a wall, but lying down would be even better."

"Let me guess: you just happen to have a nice big bed nearby?" Danny grins. "All right, you sweet talker, you've convinced me – only if no clothes come off, though. Grace might need the bathroom, and she _really_ doesn't need to see us naked."

"Agreed," Steve says firmly.

They go inside, Danny tiptoeing over to check on his daughter. If she's not asleep, she's doing a damn good job of faking it. Quietly, they head into Steve's room and close the door.

Steve lies on his back, head propped up by pillows. Danny stretches out at Steve's left side, and asks, "So how much weight can you take on that scar tissue?"

"Plenty," Steve assures him. "It's painless, honestly."

So Danny shifts his body forward until he's partly covering Steve's chest with his. Steve slides his left arm under his head, so Danny can get even closer. The movement pulls up Steve's shirt sleeve, revealing the outer edge of his shoulder tattoo that's usually hidden from view.

"Wow," Danny says. "That's some ink." He turns his head and kisses the color-stained skin, making Steve shiver. "You got more of these?"

"Yeah – quite a lot more, actually."

"Next time," Danny murmurs, "I'd like to strip you bare and lick each one."

"Fuck, yes," Steve breathes, and tilts his face towards Danny's. Danny takes the hint and kisses him, their earlier gentleness gone. It's all teeth and tongue, now, with heat and intent.

Danny's fingers are pressed against Steve's jaw and neck, holding him in place. His grip's not too tight, but still deliciously rough. Though it's been a decade since Steve slept with someone who had gun calluses, he clearly remembers how good they'd felt on his cock. Just the thought of Danny touching him like that makes Steve moan involuntarily, and Danny kisses him harder in response.

Steve doesn't know how long they kiss, but it's enough to leave him breathless and aroused. He feels like a teenager again, getting so turned on by a fully clothed make-out session. Danny's erection is pressed against his hip, though, so at least Steve isn't alone in this.

Danny pulls back, propping his head up on one hand and dropping the other hand to Steve's waist. He tugs at the hem of Steve's shirt and asks, "I want to touch your skin. Can I?"

And Steve can only say, "_Please_."

His shirt is quite tight-fitting; Danny undoes the bottom button and the next, then lays his hand flat on Steve's belly. Danny skims his way along the waistband of Steve's pants before cupping his hipbone and smoothing up his side, the movements slow and deliberate.

Steve's skin tingles with warmth everywhere Danny's strong, roughened hand touches him. Danny is studying his face and Steve holds nothing back, letting his pleasure show in half-closed eyes and hitched breaths.

Danny trails his fingertips up Steve's abs and across his ribcage, then pauses when he reaches the shrapnel scarring. But Steve says softly, "You can keep going, if you want."

So Danny traces over the damaged skin, mapping the irregular hollows and hard ridges resulting from both the original injury and subsequent surgery. Steve can feel the contact – in a detached and dulled way – but gets more enjoyment from watching the movement of Danny's hand through the thin fabric of his shirt.

Danny is curious yet careful, as he has been in all their interactions so far. And Steve thinks he could fall in love with Danny just for that alone.

But once Danny discovers that Steve's nipples are super-sensitive, compared to the scar tissue that surrounds them, Danny becomes less cautious and coherent thought becomes more challenging for Steve.

Steve shivers when Danny brushes across his right nipple, and gasps, "Oh, _fuck_" when he squeezes it between finger and thumb.

"Oh, yeah," Danny murmurs, and applies more pressure until Steve's eyes roll back in his head from the incredible sensory overload. Then he moves over to Steve's left nipple, starting with light teasing and getting rougher.

Steve is so turned on now: chest heaving, heart pounding, skin overheated, and cock pressing against his fly. But he can't do much about it, which makes this level of arousal more painful than pleasurable.

"God, it's just too good," he tells Danny, voice uneven. "I can't take any more, not unless we go a whole lot further than you'd planned."

Danny stops, and drags his hand back down to Steve's belly. "Yeah, sorry, gotta stay above the waist tonight. But wow, babe...if fingers have that effect on you, next time I'm gonna use my tongue and my _teeth_."

Taking a shaky breath, Steve warns, "I'll get fixated on your mouth if you keep making promises like that."

"It's important to have things to look forward to," Danny says with a grin.

"Well, I've been looking forward to touching you," Steve counters, "and I think it's my turn."

He rolls onto his side to face Danny, bad leg stretched out behind him to limit contact. Danny shifts his hand to Steve's right hip, like he can't bear to let go entirely. Otherwise he holds himself still and looks Steve in the eye, as if inviting him to take control.

So Steve cradles the side of Danny's face and claims his mouth, putting all his passion into the kiss. Then he lays his other hand just above the curve of Danny's ass and pulls his shirt free from his pants. Steve slides his palm up Danny's back, following the line of his spine and the curves of his musculature.

God, Danny feels so solid and strong. Steve can't wait to see his skin, to explore it with his mouth, to press their naked bodies together.

When Steve runs his fingernails down Danny's back, he makes that same low desperate sound as when Steve bit at his lip earlier. Danny likes sharp-sweet sensations too, it seems. So he does it again, scoring Danny's skin a little harder, and Danny breaks their kiss to pant against Steve's mouth.

A third time, harder still, and Danny breathes, "_Jesus_, Steve," closing his eyes and tipping his head back.

Unable to resist his exposed throat, Steve kisses a path from stubbled cheek down to smooth skin. His lips, already swollen, tingle deliciously as he licks and sucks at Danny's neck, careful not to leave any visible marks. Steve runs his teeth lightly across Danny's collarbone, and Danny shudders in his arms.

It feels so good to hold Danny like this, pressed close to him. Bringing his hips just a few inches forward would mean Steve could grind his cock against Danny's, and probably get them both off pretty damn fast. But Danny set a boundary and Steve will respect it, no matter what.

* * *

And then Steve suffers frustration of a different kind, because his phone rings. If it was one of his friends he would ignore it, but it's his mother's ringtone.

"Shit, sorry," Steve says, pulling away. "I should get that – Mom wouldn't be calling just for a sit rep."

Danny slumps back against the pillows, breathing hard, as Steve grabs his phone from the bedside table.

"Hi, kiddo," his mom says when he answers.

"Hey, I'm kind of busy here," Steve says, teeth gritted.

"Yeah, sorry. But I'm coming home now because Pat isn't feeling well. I'll be there in 15, so make yourselves respectable."

Steve sighs. "Thanks for the warning."

She chuckles at him and hangs up, and Steve turns to Danny. "Her card game finished early, so she'll be home soon," he explains.

Danny huffs out a laugh and says, "Between my daughter and your mother, it's a cross-generational cock-blocking conspiracy. Should I get going, then?"

"Mom's keen to meet you, but you don't have to stick around if you don't want to."

"Sure, I'll stay," Danny says. "It's better to wake Grace up slowly when she's in a new place, anyway. So your mom plays bridge or something?"

"Poker, actually."

"Yeah?" Danny grins. "Damn, I like her already."

He sits upright, rubbing at his face and trying to fix his mussed hair. Steve pulls himself up too and leans back against the headboard, willing his erection to subside completely.

When Steve yawns, stretching his hands over his head, Danny asks, "Hey, can I see the whole of that tattoo on your arm?"

It starts high up on his left shoulder, but Steve rolls his shirt sleeve back to reveal as much as possible.

Danny inspects the intricate blue-green design closely. "Awesome. Did you have it done when you were in the Navy?"

"Yeah," Steve says. "I got this one and a couple of others while I was serving."

"Serving as a SEAL," Danny says. It's not a question.

Steve just nods.

Danny nods back and says, "Okay. I can't promise that I will never ask about it, because I pretty much question people for a living and I'm curious off-duty too. But I will take 'no' for an answer, if necessary."

"Thank you," Steve says.

The thing is, he's allowed to talk about parts of it; not everything he did and experienced is classified. Steve just prefers not to, and the people close to him have learned not to ask. Danny's a homicide detective, though, so he must have seen some awful things on the job – and maybe he's got some blood on his hands, too. He might be able to understand better than most civilians.

"And the rest of your tats, are they pre-Navy or post-Navy?"

"They came later," Steve says. "After all the surgeries and months of physio, the doctors said I was as patched up as I'd ever be. So I started getting tattoos, firstly on my leg and chest, and then other places too. It was kind of a...a 'fuck you' to my injuries and the people who caused them. I was suffering pain _I _chose, and marking my body in a way I actually wanted." He pauses. "Does that make any sense?"

"Yeah," Danny says slowly. "I think it's about control, and I can relate to that. I let my boxing slide for years, what with working long hours and having Grace, but when Rachel left me I went back to training. I let some guys beat me, those first few months, because it was a type of hurt I could handle. And at least the hits stopped coming once the bout ended."

Steve reaches over to squeeze his hand, and they sit quietly for a long moment. Then he reluctantly says, "We should really get moving. Mom will be back soon."

"All right." Danny stands up, adjusting his clothes. He shakes his head, as if to clear it of those bitter memories. "So listen, here's my plan. First of all, we should get ourselves tested for HIV and STDs, because I risk my life on the job but not in bed."

"Sure," Steve says. "I get tested regularly, and I'm about due for my next appointment. There's a good queer-friendly clinic downtown – I can give you the address."

Danny nods. "Cool. And then, after the results come back, we should go on an actual date: just the two of us, with no relatives in sight."

"Sounds great," Steve says. As much as he likes spending time with Grace, he likes being alone with Danny even more.

"If our date goes well," Danny continues, "we should head back to my place. You'll be pleased to hear it's on the first floor, with no steps or anything. And once we're in my bedroom, with its nice big bed, nakedness and assorted sexual activities may quite possibly ensue. Okay?"

Steve grins at him. "Anyone ever tell you that you're bossy?"

"Oh, once or twice," Danny admits.

"It's a good thing I have a lot of practice at following orders, then," Steve says, and Danny grins back. Steve wants to kiss him, to muss him up all over again, but they're on a deadline here.

Danny heads into the living room to wake Grace up; Steve uses the bathroom, then checks to make sure he looks presentable. His lips are still a little swollen, with some whisker burn on his face, but it's nothing too bad.

He's straightening up his bed – Navy habits die hard – when he hears Grace's voice through the open door.

"So did you kiss him, Danno?"

"Yeah, monkey, I did," Danny says, "and I'd like to kiss him a whole lot more in future. You cool with that?"

"Uh-huh," Grace says, the word half-swallowed by a yawn. "I think that's real good."

Steve smiles to himself, pleased to know he has Grace's blessing. Now he just hopes that his mom will approve of Danny, too.

Grace is sitting up on the couch, sipping water, when Steve walks into the living room. She smiles sleepily at him. Danny is over by the DVD player, retrieving _Oceans_. He looks at the many shelves of CDs, and whistles quietly.

"Man, anyone would think you co-owned a music store or something."

"Oh, Mom's been buying from Mamo's since the vinyl days," Steve says. "But yeah, she makes damn good use of the 25% discount we give her. All the ones stacked above the stereo are mine, though."

Steve goes to clean up the kitchen, needing an outlet for his lingering energy. He stacks the dirty pans by the sink; washing them can wait until the morning. At least tonight's leftovers will save him the trouble of cooking tomorrow.

"Okay, the classical I would have expected," Danny says after surveying Steve's CD collection, "but what's with all the '70s soft rock?"

"Dad was a fan," Steve explains. "His albums were still here when I moved back, and I just couldn't get rid of them."

Danny pulls a boxset off the shelf and turns to face Steve, eyebrows raised. "See, I would believe you, except that I've watched far too much late-night TV the past few years. So I know for a _fact_ that this easy-listening compilation only got released last Christmas."

"Yeah, all right, I bought that one off an infomercial," Steve admits, wiping down the stovetop and counter. "It's got lots of catchy songs, okay?"

Grinning, Danny puts the album back. "There's no excuse for owning 'Sexy Eyes', my friend."

Steve is tempted to throw his damp, dirty kitchen sponge at Danny, but that would set a bad example for Grace. Also, he wouldn't want to risk hitting the flat-screen TV – that thing was damn expensive.

So he just asks, "Well, what would I find in your music collection, then?"

"Classic rock, pretty much," Danny says. "The Stones, The Doors, Led Zep...plus every album by Jersey's favorite sons, Bruce Springsteen and Jon Bon Jovi."

"Bon Jovi? Really?"

Danny spreads his hands. "Oh, don't even _start_ with me, babe. People in soft rock glasshouses do not get to throw stones."

Hoping to forestall further argument, Steve turns to Grace. "And what kind of music do you like?"

"Justin Bieber," she says promptly. "Hannah Montana and the Jonas Brothers are cool, too."

"At least you finally outgrew The Wiggles." Danny sighs. "God, I wanted to throw that CD out the car window."

Grace sticks her tongue out at Danny. "I still remember all those songs," she informs him. "I can sing them to you anytime."

He shudders theatrically, and Steve laughs.

* * *

Mom arrives home, then, precluding a medley of The Wiggles' greatest hits. She toes off her sandals by the front door and says, "Hi, folks."

Steve says, "Guys, this is my mother, Cynthia McGarrett. Mom, this is Detective Danny Williams and Grace Williams."

"Good to meet you, Mrs. McGarrett," Danny says.

She shakes his outstretched hand. "You too, Detective – but call me Cynthia, please."

"Danny," he counters with a smile.

"And I think I've seen you at Mamo's, Grace," Mom continues. "Steve says you're a great customer, so I already know you're my kind of girl."

"I wish I had as many books as you," Grace says shyly.

Mom grins. "Well, I've got a half-century head-start on you, sweetheart. But that's a very good ambition to have."

"Oh, that reminds me," Steve says. "Have you seen our copy of _The Hobbit_, Mom? I wanted to lend it to Danny."

"It's up in my room," she says. "I re-read it once the film version finally got the green light. I'll just go grab it."

Once she's gone, Steve tells Grace, "Mom bought me that book at Mamo's when I was eight. It was a special reward, because she'd spent over an hour comparing different Beethoven albums over at the listening station."

"My mommy does that too," Grace sighs. "She listens to CDs with boys in dresses on the front."

Steve hears his mom chuckling quietly in the upstairs hallway.

"They're called choirboys, monkey," Danny says. "Your mom used to sing in a church choir back in England, and she misses it."

"You know, Honolulu's Episcopal cathedral has a great choral program," Mom says to Danny as she comes back downstairs. "And the music director is British too."

"Okay, thanks," he says, "I'll tell my ex. They've only been here three months, so I think she's been too busy settling in to check out the local choirs."

Grace yawns, and leans against Danny's side. "Well, we should get going," he says, "before this girl turns into a pumpkin."

"It was the _coach_ that became a pumpkin, not Cinderella," Grace points out, a pedant even when half-asleep.

Steve grins. "I'll walk you out," he offers, and waits while Mom, Danny and Grace say their goodnights.

Once Danny gets Grace settled in the car, he turns to Steve.

"It's great that you can be so open with your mother," he says. "Ma would freak if I ever came out to her."

"Yeah, Mom's always been supportive – she even helped set up a GSA club at school."

Danny nods, and says, "Well, thanks for a fantastic night." He kisses Steve, and it's chaste but so sweet. He looks as reluctant as Steve feels to separate again.

"Thank _you_," Steve says.

When Danny drives away, Steve limps back inside to find his mom waiting.

"So it went well, I take it?"

"Yeah," Steve says, unable to keep from smiling. "I think we could really have something good, here."

She hugs him. "I hope so. I haven't seen you look this happy for a long time."

"Thanks, Mom." Steve rests his cheek against her short dark hair and just breathes for a moment. He truly is lucky to have her.

When she releases him, he asks, "How did you get on tonight?"

"I won $25, which is the best I've managed in ages. But that was mostly due to Pat not being her usual shark-like self."

"I hope it's nothing serious." Steve's very fond of Pat, both as a former colleague and as one of Mom's closest friends. Years of in-store chatting had led to the two of them attending classical concerts together, and then to Mom earning a regular spot at Pat's Saturday night poker game.

"Just a headache," Mom assures him. "She needs reading glasses, but she's too damn stubborn to admit it."

Steve nods. "Pat always squinted at the small print on Mamo's invoices, even a decade ago."

Mom pulls off her own glasses and rubs her eyes, then heads for the stairs. "So when are you seeing Danny again?"

"We didn't make a definite date. But soon, I hope."

"Good." She smiles. "And if things keep going well, could you invite him and Grace over for dinner sometime? I'd like to get to know them both."

"Sure. 'Night, Mom."

"Sweet dreams, kiddo."

Steve goes to his room, and jerks off to memories of Danny touching him and fantasies of more. He sleeps better than he has for a while.


	5. Chapter 5

As usual, Mom spends much of Sunday in her office, grading papers and planning classes. And, as usual, Steve washes the dishes and does some laundry before tackling his own paperwork: accounts, taxes, and the other boring but essential stuff that keeps Mamo's in business.

Just like teaching high school, the hard slog of running a store doesn't end when the doors get locked each night. Even on his only day off, Steve works. But being a SEAL prepared him well for the concept of duty first and any private life second.

Steve thinks about Danny all day; how could he not? He replays last night in his head, like he's reviewing an op, but there's actually not too much he'd have done differently. He couldn't have secured the bedroom door to assure their privacy, because it has no lock – if he fell and hurt himself, Mom would be unable to get in and help him. They could have gone to Danny's instead, maybe, but Grace would still have been nearby. And would Steve have felt so bold away from his home turf?

Anyway, getting tested and going on a proper date first adds a sense of anticipation. Steve is certain that Danny will be worth the wait.

Steve also considers what he could tell Danny about life in the SEALs. Mission details are all classified, of course, but there are plenty of other things Steve just can't say out loud. How he looked people in the face – up close or through a rifle's sights – as he killed them. How he watched comrades and friends die, some in an instant, some slowly and in terrible pain.

How he himself almost bled to death on a frozen, windswept mountainside.

Some of his more positive memories might be okay to share, though. Steve could describe the full moon rising over the South Atlantic, or the sun setting over the Andes. He could talk about how desert dunes look like giant golden waves from the air, or about how the green and purple _aurora borealis_ ripples across northern skies.

There are more prosaic things, too, like the locals Steve met, the food he ate, and the wildlife he saw. To Danny, who's never left the US, those experiences could seem interesting and exotic. And some of Steve's sanitized stories might even be suitable for Grace to hear.

* * *

Come Monday morning, Steve has to cope once more with his employees' prurient interest in his love life.

A few minutes before the doors open, he tells them, "Okay, guys, listen up: my date went well, Danny's great, and I'll be seeing him again. Now shut the hell up and leave me alone."

Kono grins unrepentantly and claps him on the shoulder, Kamekona gives one of his deep belly laughs, and Toast nods sagely before wandering upstairs. Chin, who (like Cath) has already heard a slightly more detailed account from Steve, just shakes his head at them all.

And then Rachel comes into the store at lunch.

Steve has never warmed to Rachel during her previous visits with Grace...she's seemed distant and reserved, despite obviously being a loving mother. So it's odd to think about her now as the ex-wife of his potential partner. Steve knows almost nothing about her, really – she's British, she's polite, and she likes classical music. He isn't even sure what she does, but judging from her clothes it's something corporate and well-paid.

While Rachel browses, Steve realizes that Danny's given him a new way to relate to her: homesickness. He missed Hawaii so badly during his eight years away, firstly training on the mainland and then serving as a SEAL. Even leaving by choice can be a wrench, Steve knows, and Rachel is now further from her home and family than ever before.

"Hello, Mr. McGarrett," Rachel says as she stops by his desk.

"Aloha, Mrs. Edwards. How are you?" If she wants to keep this formal, Steve will follow suit.

"Fine, thanks." She hesitates, and then adds, "I just wanted to say that I wish you and Danny well. Grace's happiness is my primary concern, of course, but I hope he can find contentment here too."

"Thank you; I appreciate that," he manages after a moment. It's more of a blessing than Steve expected.

"Also, I gather your mother suggested I try the choir at St. Andrew's Cathedral. I spoke to the very nice choirmaster yesterday, and he kindly invited me to join their ranks. So please thank Mrs. McGarrett for me."

"I will," Steve says, genuinely glad that Rachel is rekindling that connection with home. She gives him a nod and a quick smile, then moves across to Chin's desk to order a Byrd album by The Sixteen.

Steve leans back, blowing out his breath. He's relieved to hear that there's still some goodwill and openness between Danny and Rachel, and not only for Grace's sake.

Chin comes over once Rachel's gone, and says, "Did you suggest Max Bergman as a possible piano teacher for Grace?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Mrs. Edwards just asked my advice, and I told her Max was the best around. So she's going to give him a call."

"Good," Steve says. "Hey, how are Kai's lessons going?"

"Really well," Chin says with a proud grin. "Just started to learn another Bach fugue – one of those ones with four voices."

Steve gives a low whistle. "Damn, that's challenging stuff for an eight-year-old. He really is gifted."

"Yeah, but we try not to use that word," Chin says, "or not when he's around, anyway. Malia and I want him to have fun with his music, and have a normal childhood."

Chin's told Steve how much pressure his family put on him as a talented young violinist, and how high their expectations were, so Steve's not surprised that he wants something better for his son.

"Kai's been asked to play at his school's Thanksgiving recital again this year," Chin adds. "He's going to start with some Chopin to impress the parents and teachers, and finish with some tween pop hit to please the kids."

Steve laughs. "Covering all his demographics, huh? He's a born performer."

Then Miss Lawson approaches the music desk to ask a question, and Steve's day rolls on.

The rest of the afternoon is busy – it's Halloween tonight, so some kids in costume show up. Mrs. Keawe brings her two eldest grandchildren in; they choose some books for themselves, and then she sits down to read them a ghost story. A few other children linger nearby, listening. By the time she starts the next story, doing all the different voices with practiced ease, she has quite an audience.

On his way home, Steve visits the sexual health clinic and undergoes the usual array of tests and exams. Most of the results should be back within a week; the finger-prick test for HIV takes just 20 minutes to come up negative. He's always practiced safe sex, but it's still a great relief.

After dinner, Cath calls. "Hey, I've got good news: Laura unearthed a spare copy of our Hawaiian mythology book. Are you willing to pay a 25% mark-up on the retail price, though?"

"Yeah, sure," Steve says, and she laughs.

"Not even attempting to bargain? Damn, you weren't kidding about how well things went on Saturday. I can drop it by tonight, if you like?"

"That'd be great."

When Cath arrives, Steve and Mom are in the living room. He's making notes on a publisher's catalogue before the rep comes tomorrow, circling items he definitely want to order and scribbling queries beside others. Mom, still incensed about that Shakespeare movie, is enjoying Shapiro's masterful debunking of the authorship question.

Each of them occasionally mutters something under their breath as they read, but they've long since learned to ignore one another.

Mom gets up to answer the door, and greets Cath with a warm 'Hi, honey' and a hug. She's always had a soft spot for Cath, still treating her like an honorary daughter even now, and the affection is mutual. Cath's own mother died years ago, so she seems to appreciate having another maternal presence in her life.

"Hey, Cynthia," Cath says, kissing her cheek. "Wow, you're really rocking this chestnut brown look. Last time I was here, you were a redhead."

Mom laughs. "Being able to experiment with color is the one advantage of going gray. I think I'll dye my hair black, next."

"I'm starting to go gray," Steve comments from his armchair. "Should I hit the bottle too?"

"Don't dye it," Cath says. "The salt-and-pepper look is totally working for you."

"Men can get away with graying hair," Mom adds. "Anyway, Cath, you want a snack or a drink?"

"No, thanks – I won't stay long. I'm just dropping off this book as a pretext for hearing more about Danny."

"Some things I really don't need to know," Mom says, "so I think that's my cue to say goodnight." She kisses them both, and goes upstairs.

Cath sits beside Steve, and hands over the book. Steve pays her what Laura asked, plus another 20% – "for gas, and for making a home delivery," he explains.

She grins. "I'm an impoverished artist, so I won't say no, but I was driving Diamond Head bound anyway. I just dropped my painting off at Danny's."

"Oh, great. Grace will be so thrilled."

"He's got a nice apartment, by the way: big comfy-looking bed, and totally flat access."

"Danny mentioned both those things as attractions of his place, for after our next date," Steve admits.

"Did he, now," Cath says, eyebrows raised. "All right, _spill_."

Since Steve is a gentleman, he doesn't give her all the juicy details. But he reveals enough that she squeezes his hand and says, "I'm so glad you're letting your guard down a little, and giving Danny a chance. I've got a real good feeling about this one, Steve."

"Me, too," he says, squeezing back.

Cath breaks the sappy mood by adding, "And you'll be relieved to hear I didn't share any of your embarrassing secrets tonight."

Steve rolls his eyes. "Such heroic forbearance, on your part."

"Oh, I'm saving the good stuff for later, once he's well and truly hooked on you," Cath assures him.

"Gee, thanks," Steve says. "But seriously, thanks for the book – and the moral support."

"Hey, what else is a queer guy's queer ex-girlfriend for?"

Cath gets up to leave, and Steve walks her to the door. She says, "Listen, just so you know: Danny's been assigned to that double murder case."

"Wait, what case? I haven't been following the news."

"Two tourists were found dead at 'Ewa Beach Park early this morning, and I'm guessing there's major political pressure to get it solved quickly. Danny looked tired and stressed out tonight. But his face lit up when I mentioned you, so...whatever you've been doing, keep it up."

She hugs him goodbye and heads out, leaving Steve to contemplate the grim reality of police work. It sounds like Danny's quiet adjustment period at HPD is over.

* * *

With the 'Ewa stabbings all over the news, Steve's not expecting to see Danny for a while. So it's a very pleasant surprise when Danny and Grace walk into Mamo's Wednesday evening, 20 minutes before closing.

Grace is wearing a pink dress, with a sparkly plastic tiara on her head and a shiny wand in one hand. "Hi, Steve," she says, bouncing on the spot. "It's my birthday, and Uncle Matt sent me this outfit!"

"Wow, Gracie, it looks neat. And _hau'oli la hanau_ to you – that means 'happy birthday' in Hawaiian." Steve grins at Danny over her head. "Hey. It's good you could get time off from your big case."

"Are you kidding? They'd have to cuff me to my desk to keep me away. Anyway, we caught the guy this morning and I got him to confess by lunch." Danny looks worn out, but satisfied.

"Congratulations – that's real fast work," Steve says. "So are you having a nice day so far, Grace?"

"Uh-huh. Mommy and Stan got me a new pink bike, and then after school we went to a giant maze shaped like a pineapple, and we ate pineapple ice-cream."

Danny makes a face, and Steve laughs.

"And Mommy took me to meet Max the piano teacher yesterday," Grace continues. "He showed me how to play 'Happy Birthday', and then he made up a bunch of different versions on the spot. He's really funny."

"I'm glad you like Max," Steve tells her. "And I got you a present too, but it's at home; I didn't expect to see you guys today. So I'll give it to you next time, okay?"

"Actually," Danny says, "we stopped by to invite you to dinner, if you're free tonight. So we could maybe pick up your gift on the way."

"Oh, are you sure? I wouldn't want to intrude on your celebration."

"I want you to," Grace says. "Please, Steve?"

Steve glances at Danny, who grins. "You heard the lady, bookman."

Knowing when he's beaten, Steve smiles at them both. "Okay, then."

Steve stands up and shoots a look at Chin, who's just finished up with Mr. Anderson. Chin's supreme patience has paid off; after spending two hours at the listening station, and asking many too-loud questions, the indecisive old man wound up buying four operas.

Chin comes over to Steve's desk and says, "Getting a head start on _pau hana_, huh?"

"Sorry, Chin. These people are bad influences on me," Steve says.

"Luckily, I'm all in favor of you being happy," Chin tells him, and then grins at Danny. "Hi, I'm Chin Ho Kelly."

They shake hands. "Danny Williams. Good to meet you."

"And you're a familiar face around here, Miss Grace," Chin continues. "I don't have a birthday present for you, but I'll let you take Steve away early tonight."

"Mahalo, brah," Steve says.

Out on the sidewalk, Grace tells Steve about dressing up as Hermione Granger for Halloween. "I like her because she's smart and she reads all the time, and she knows lots of awesome magic."

"Cool. So does your wand let you cast spells on people, too?"

Grace grins, and taps it twice against Steve's forearm. "Abracadabra, come to our place for dinner!"

Steve crosses his eyes, raises his hands like a zombie, and intones, "I must eat dinner with Gracie and Danno." He takes only a few steps like that before leaning heavily on his cane again, but it's enough to send Grace into a fit of giggles.

Danny watches them both with a tired but fond grin, eyes crinkling at the corners. He doesn't even tell Steve off for using Grace's nickname for him.

When they reach Steve's house, he offers Danny coffee and Grace a glass of milk. She chugs it down, giving herself a milk mustache, then heads for the bathroom.

Steve leans back against the kitchen counter as he sips his coffee; Danny does the same as he gulps his, pressed close to Steve's left side. Steve feels _warm_, inside and out.

"That's the best cup of joe I've had on this island so far," Danny says. "I'd have thought a Hawaiian precinct's break room would serve decent coffee, what with beans actually being grown here, but it's just as bad as the swill back home."

"Oh, you should come into Mamo's sometime when the café is open," Steve tells him. "Our barista is a goddamn genius. You'll just have to ignore his, uh, lingering aroma of a certain illegal herb."

"Luckily I work homicide, not narcotics. And trust me...I'm a caffeine addict first, and a cop second," Danny assures him.

Steve grins. It's good to know he won't be judged for his own habit.

His cup drained, Danny rests his head on Steve's shoulder. "God, I'm wiped."

"You did great, catching that killer in just two days."

"Yeah, it was a nice way to kick off my HPD career." Danny laughs a little. "You remember those cops who called me a haole last week? One of them clapped me on the back and said 'Good job' after I got that confession. It's a start, anyway."

"And how are things with Meka?"

Danny rolls his eyes. "He bugs me for wearing a tie. Otherwise, we're doing just fine."

"Well, the tie does make you look out of place." Steve lowers his voice. "But mostly I want to yank it off so I can lick that hollow at the base of your throat. Or maybe suck a bruise into that soft smooth skin, low down on your neck, where it'll be hidden by your collar."

"Goddamn, Steve," Danny breathes, biting his lip as he looks up at Steve. "You trying to make me forget my plan?"

"No, no," Steve says. "I agree with the plan. But didn't you tell me it was important to have things to look forward to?"

Danny groans, and Steve smiles.

"I already got started on step one, by the way," he tells Danny. "My HIV test was clear. I'll show you the paperwork once my other results come back."

"Okay, great," Danny says. "I've been crazy busy with this case, but I'll go tomorrow. Where's the place you use?"

Steve pulls out his wallet, and hands him the clinic's card.

Grace comes back from the bathroom, then, and Steve says, "Oh, hey...I promised you a birthday present, didn't I? It's on that shelf there."

She picks up the neatly wrapped parcel (Steve has worked enough holiday seasons that he could gift-wrap books in his _sleep_) and glances at Danny. He says, "Go ahead, sweetheart."

Her eyes widen as the mythology book's colorful cover is revealed, depicting a group of sea turtles guiding the Polynesian explorers' canoes to Hawaii.

"These are some of the stories that local kids grow up knowing," Steve explains, "so I thought you might like to know them too. And my friend Cath did the illustrations."

"Thank you, Steve – it's awesome," Grace says.

"Looks real neat, monkey," Danny agrees, then smiles at Steve. "Great choice, babe."

On the way to Danny's place, Steve notices Grace sneaking glances at her new book, then gazing fixedly out the window. "Reading makes you carsick, huh?"

She nods, sadly, and he says, "Yeah, me too...it really sucks."

"I can read in the car," Danny says, "though I'm usually the one driving, so it's not that useful. But there was this road trip, years ago, just after I graduated from the academy. Me and some buddies –"

(Steve thinks, but does not say, _Some buddies and I_.)

"– we drove to Florida. Marco's girlfriend was at school down in Miami, and he was going to propose to her; the rest of us just wanted a break from the Jersey winter. So we piled into Kevin's old car, and I got to be the navigator. And that was fine; great actually, since I got to control the radio too. But Jimmy had picked up this cheesy 1950s guidebook at a yard sale, and wanted me to share every description of every podunk place we passed."

"I bet that got real boring," Steve says, fascinated by the whole concept of road tripping for fun. Oahu isn't exactly suited for anything except going in circles. And long drives on SEAL missions were usually to be endured, not enjoyed, especially since Steve couldn't distract himself with a book.

"Worse, actually: it got _depressing_. I'd be reading out all this cheerful guff about some bustling factory town, or some idyllic farming community surrounded by fields. And then I'd look up to see ghost towns and derelict barns and outlet malls. We left the book at a thrift store, in the end, and just kept driving."

Shaking his head, Steve says, "I hope you had more fun in Miami."

Danny flashes him a grin. "Oh, definitely, but not the kind Grace is allowed to hear about."

"I'm nine now," Grace argues. "I'm not a little kid anymore."

"Nope, sorry. You can hear those stories when you're 29...or maybe 39."

"So are you still friends with those guys?" Steve asks.

"Marco moved to Florida, but the others – yeah, we stayed close."

Steve envies Danny for that. He had trouble reconnecting with his old friends when he got back after eight years in the Navy. Steve couldn't reveal where he'd been or what he'd seen, couldn't relate to their normal safe lives...and they seemed to find him too much changed from how he'd been before. Cath's one of the few who stuck with him.

"Kev was my roommate for a few years, between me getting out of Ma's house and moving in with Rachel," Danny continues. "He organized my bachelor party; would've been my best man, too, except my brother would never have forgiven me if I didn't pick him. And Jimmy was a beat cop in Newark, working the district next to mine. We even made detective together. But then he lost control during a car chase, and wound up in a wheelchair."

"Damn, that's rough." Paralysis could so easily have been Steve's own fate, if that shrapnel had hit his back and not his chest.

"Yeah. He was so determined to stay on as a cop, though, even if he could only do desk work. We cleared a lot of cases between us, Jimmy making calls and digging through records and me pounding the pavement and knocking on doors."

"Sounds like a great guy," Steve says.

"Uncle Jimmy is cool," Grace says. "Uncle Kevin, too. I miss them."

"So do I, monkey. But maybe they'll be able to visit us out here sometime."

* * *

When they arrive at Danny's apartment, Grace goes to her room to put her backpack away.

From their vantage point in the doorway, Danny and Steve witness Grace's mouth falling open as she sees what's propped up on her desk: Cath's painting of the mermaid and the princess. Steve whips out his phone and snaps a photo of her stunned, delighted expression, so that Danny can have a permanent record of this moment.

Grace turns to her father with shining eyes, and throws her arms around him. "You really got me that picture? Thank you, Danno, it's the best present ever!"

Danny holds her tight, eyes closed, a blissful smile on his face.

Steve gets a little choked-up, watching the two of them; he also feels like he's intruding on something private. But Danny glances over and tells Grace, "And maybe you should thank Steve, too, for taking us to Cath's exhibition last week."

She looks at Steve. "Can I hug you?"

He gets himself braced, cane acting as a stabilizer, and says, "Go for it."

Grace puts her arms around his waist, more gently than she'd done with Danny, and presses her cheek to his shirt. "Thank you," she whispers.

"You're welcome, Gracie."

"Can I call Mommy, and tell her about my presents?" she asks Danny as she lets Steve go.

"Sure thing, monkey. We'll be in the living room." Danny brings up Rachel's number on his phone, hands it to Grace, and closes the door behind him.

Steve sinks onto the couch beside Danny, looking around the decent-sized apartment. Through another doorway he can see a big comfy-looking bed, just as advertised. Steve's looking forward to trying it out, someday soon.

"Wow, this place is pretty nice."

Danny sighs. "I hate to admit it, but it's thanks to Rachel and her husband. Stan's a big property tycoon, right, so he has all kinds of connections. The guy who owns the building owed Stan a major favor from way back, so Rach pulled some strings and got the guy to offer me this apartment with the rent knocked down. Otherwise, I could only have afforded some shitty little one-bedroom place."

Steve nods. "Rental prices on this island are scarily high, yeah."

"If it was just for me, I would've said no. My pride is all I've got left, you know? But for Gracie's sake, I took the deal."

"I think you've got more than just pride, Danny...so much more," Steve says, and presses a kiss to his cheek.

Danny turns towards Steve and kisses his mouth, fingertips caressing his face. Even this soft kiss makes Steve's lips tingle; even this gentle touch sends warmth radiating through him. Steve doesn't understand how Danny can make him feel so much by doing such little things. But God, he _loves_ it.

They break apart when Grace comes back out; she just beams at them, though. Danny asks, "Hey, are you hungry yet?"

She nods, and he says, "Okay, you know the drill: as the birthday girl, you get to pick tonight's menu."

Grace wanders into the kitchen, where a variety of take-out flyers are stuck to the refrigerator.

"Chinese," she declares, and brings the menu back to Danny.

Steve glances at it, and says, "Oh, yeah, that's a great place. And you get extra food if you order in Cantonese. Which I can," he adds, at Danny's baffled look.

Danny grins. "Well, aren't you full of useful surprises."

"You pick up bits of various languages, growing up here," Steve explains. "And then I picked up more in the Navy."

Mrs. Lau answers the phone, as always, and kindly doesn't mock Steve's pronunciation as he places their order. He's got his usual down pat, sure, but Grace's spring rolls and Danny's sweet and sour pork present a new challenge.

Once Steve's done, Grace holds out her new book to Steve. "Can you please read me the story about the turtles leading the explorers here?"

Steve looks at Danny, who shrugs and says, "Hey, read it to both of us. If I'm gonna live in Hawaii, I guess I should know some of this stuff too."

So, with Danny and Grace sitting either side of him, Steve clears his throat and begins:

"Long ago, before our ancestors came to Hawai'i, the gods and the animals owned these islands – the land, the sky above, and the ocean that stretched to the horizon. And Honu the green turtle swam happily through the blue waters, always able to find its way back to the shore where it was born..."

* * *

**Author****'s** **Note:** there is still an epilogue to come, which is much darker in tone (but ends on a hopeful note). So you can consider this the ending, if you choose. Thanks for reading, everyone!


	6. Chapter 6

**Warning:** this chapter deals with combat-induced psychological trauma, including a serious flashback.

* * *

**Epilogue: three months later.**

It's 15 minutes before closing on a Wednesday, and Mamo's is nearly empty after a busy afternoon. Danny and Grace are here, as is often the case: Steve goes home with the two of them either Wednesday or Saturday, giving them daddy-daughter time the other night. The arrangement seems to suit everyone.

Rachel stopped by earlier, to pick up a CD and to drop off the book report Grace had left on the kitchen counter. Steve didn't have time to talk, but was pleased to see her having an almost friendly chat with Danny. She even invited them to her choir's concert Sunday night. Choral music really isn't Steve's thing, so it's just as well he and Danny already have dinner plans with Meka and Amy. Still, it's a sign of progress that Rachel made the offer at all.

Mrs. Keawe has been and gone, too, celebrating the birth of her fifth grandkid by buying many, many books. As they both browsed the children's section, Grace suggested extra purchases for baby Michael's older sisters. Steve should give her a commission, or at least a grateful hug.

After prolonged, heated debate, an overdressed French couple just bought four expensive books about Hawaii. Steve tried his rusty French on them, but switched back to English when they seemed unimpressed. Now the only customer still here is Professor Lee from UH's conservatory, comparing several recently-released versions of _The Four Seasons_. His twitchy gestures suggest he'd rather be conducting than just listening.

Grace is in her favorite chair, reading Tamora Pierce, while Danny is immersed in a new biography of Springsteen that Steve got in just for him. Chin is upstairs, pulling DVDs for a big online order. Steve is processing invoices – his evenings and Sundays are much busier, these days, so he's behind on his paperwork.

And then Nick Taylor walks in.

Steve sees him in his peripheral vision, but doesn't look up from the invoice that's suddenly out of focus. The few seconds Nick takes to reach his desk aren't nearly enough time to prepare for this, the collision of his old and new lives. Steve can only take a deep breath, and grip his cane tight.

He's been visited by a few of his former SEAL buddies, over the last decade, but this is different. First of all, Steve had been attracted to Nick the moment he arrived on loan from the CIA, a couple of months before Steve was wounded, though of course he'd never acted on it. Second of all, Steve will forever associate Nick with the worst day of his life...he regularly stars in Steve's nightmares.

And now he's standing in front of Steve, smile wide and arms open. "Yo, Smooth Dog! Good to see you, man."

"Hey, Bullfrog," Steve says, moving around the desk towards him. Their brief hug is more like a close-range back slap.

Danny and Grace both look up, but Steve keeps his focus on Nick.

"When Joe told me where to find you, I didn't believe him," Nick says, glancing around disdainfully.

Steve's unsurprised by his attitude. "Yeah, I co-own this place," he says, tone deliberately light. "Not so exciting as my last job, maybe, but at least nobody shoots at me anymore."

"Well, I got out a couple of years back...set up my own shop. Private security," Nick adds, just as Steve was trying – and failing – to imagine him working retail. "I'm in Hawaii to meet a potential client, figured I'd touch base."

"Great," Steve says, and waits for the catch. He's heard nothing from Nick since Afghanistan: no hospital visits, no get-well cards, no catch-up emails. If Nick's here, ten years later, he must want something.

His next words prove Steve right. "Actually, I'm recruiting at the moment and thought you'd be interested. Can we get out of here, go have a drink to discuss it?"

Blinking, Steve gestures to his right leg. "My kneecap hasn't miraculously reassembled itself since you last saw me," he says quietly. "I can't run; I can't even walk far without a cane."

Nick shrugs. "I've got more than enough super-fit guys on my roster. Plenty of grunts are getting out after their mandatory, and following the money to the private sector. No, I need brains now, not brawn – and you'd be ideal. You could work out of my D.C. base, handling intel and planning field ops: all of the excitement, and none of the risk. I offer excellent pay, with performance bonuses and full benefits."

He spreads his hands, grinning. "So, whaddaya say?"

Steve leans back against his desk and looks around. Danny is standing beside Grace, frowning and biting his lip; she glances between him and Steve with a confused expression. Chin is watching from the top of the stairs, face and body tense.

"Okay, so I've obviously surprised you," Nick says, when Steve remains silent. "Let me buy you that drink, and we can talk it over."

"No, thanks," Steve says firmly. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm not interested."

Danny and Chin look relieved; Nick looks incredulous. "Wait, you're serious?"

"Yeah, I mean it. I'm out now, and I'm done."

Nick spreads his hands. "All those years of training, all your experience...and you want to waste it by just sitting here and selling books?"

"Actually, you'd be surprised by how much carry-over there is between the military and retail," Steve explains.

"But I've seen you in action," Nick protests. "You were one of the best, man. This nine-to-five bullshit, it's not you!"

Steve doesn't need Danny's wince to prompt him. "Hey," he says sharply, "watch your mouth in here."

When Nick rolls his eyes, Steve lowers his voice. "And for your information, this _is_ me. This is who I was, before the Sea Cadets and BUD/S and the 'Stan. I've just come home, is all."

But his efforts to make Nick understand are apparently wasted.

"Christ, McGarrett, do you have any idea how gay that sounds?" His mocking tone frays Steve's already raw nerves.

Belatedly, Steve recalls just how badly Nick used to react when things didn't go his way. It's time to de-escalate, before this gets real ugly. So, as calmly as he can, Steve says, "I think we're done here. But hey, thanks for stopping by."

Nick steps closer to Steve. "No, we're not done. You and me, we went through hell together in those mountains. I kept you alive until the chopper could reach us, and all I get now is 'Thanks for stopping by'? You _owe_ me, McGarrett."

"I'm grateful that you saved my life," Steve says, teeth gritted, "but I still don't want the job. So please, get out of my store."

"Or what – you'll hit me with your cane?"

Nick is so close now that Steve can smell the cigarette smoke and cinnamon gum on his breath...just like when Nick was bent low over Steve's broken body, covered in Steve's blood.

And Steve _freezes_, unable to speak or even breathe, unable to stop himself reliving the pain and the fear.

His vision blurs, but he's aware of Danny hurrying across the store. Without turning his head, Nick says, "Stay out of this, man. It's none of your damn business."

"Yeah, except I'm a police officer," Danny tells him, not stopping until he reaches Steve, "and the proprietor of this fine establishment has asked you to vacate the premises. As you are refusing to comply, it _is_ my business."

When he sees Danny's gun and badge, Nick backs off. "If I'd known you'd turn into such a motherfucking pussy, I would've let you die," he snarls at Steve, then walks out.

Steve just stands there, heart racing and fists clenched. His shrapnel scars feel red-raw again, and his knee pulses with fiery agony.

Chin is already half-way down the stairs; he takes the rest two at a time and approaches Steve, looking worried as hell. Grace rushes over to Danny, tears in her eyes, and he holds her tight while calling Steve's name softly.

Feeling trapped, _suffocated_, Steve waves them back. "No, sorry, I...just wait, okay?"

He stumbles to the stockroom, collapses into a chair, and rests his pounding head in his shaking hands.

* * *

It's been years since Steve had a flashback this bad, this overwhelming. With his mind full of blood and cold and panic and noise, he struggles to remember the coping mechanisms he learned in hospital.

Breathing, he thinks desperately; his therapist went on and on about breath control. So he focuses on that (_in_-two-three, _out_-two-three) until finally it feels like he's got enough air in his lungs.

After that, Steve can open his eyes and focus on where he is. He stares at the stock-filled shelves he used to dust for Mamo, 20 years ago. Steve counts the books, naming each one in a whisper as he strokes its spine. Then he touches the upright CD cases, his fingernails raking noisily across the ridged top edges.

These concrete objects and distinct sensations, plus the happier memories layered atop each other in this place, eventually combine to wrench Steve's mind out of Afghanistan. He's back home now, alive and safe and loved.

Steve leans back, flexing his knee as he processes the flashback. Even without being triggered by that smell, he knows he would have been left shaken just by seeing Nick.

Though he owes his life to the guy, in Steve's head Nick is also bound up with the _cause_ of his injuries. It was bad intel that sent their SEAL team into that Al Qaeda trap, after a CIA asset in Kabul – personally vouched for by Nick – pulled a double-cross. But Nick kept denying he'd been played, even as their friends fell around them.

Steve was medevac'd to Bagram, leg mangled and chest full of metal. At least he got out alive...a decade on, he still dreams of all the guys that didn't.

But Danny, instincts honed by parenthood and policing, has a real knack for calming him down after a nightmare. And Steve gets more sleep with Danny beside him than with anyone else since Cath, like his senses recognize Danny and trust him.

Steve's life has only gotten better since he met Danny, in every respect. Nick, who used to tell viciously homophobic jokes, will never understand that either.

His heartbeat has slowed, his breathing has evened out, and the pain flare-up has receded. Steve's stunned to see that only ten minutes have passed since Nick first arrived; it's nearly closing time, now.

He wipes his eyes, limps from the stockroom, and finds Chin, Danny, and Grace waiting just outside the door.

"Hey, guys. I'm so sorry you had to see all that."

Danny says nothing, but lays one hand on his wrist and gently squeezes. His warmth seeps into Steve's chilled skin.

Chin knows Steve too well to bother with dumb questions, like 'Are you okay?' He just says, "I'll finish up here. You get going."

"Your taste in friends has improved a lot over the years," Danny says, with a grateful nod at Chin.

"My taste in men, too," Steve admits, and Danny grimaces.

"From 'Bullfrog' to me? Yeah, I'd damn well hope so."

"'Bullfrog' is a stupid name," Grace says, defiant words belied by her shaky voice. "Bad guys in books have much scarier nicknames."

Steve manages a smile, and holds his hand out to her. Grace hugs him, and he strokes her hair. The smooth, soft texture, so unlike anything he'd touched in Afghanistan, helps ground him in the here and now.

Grace has stopped crying, but she still looks upset. Steve feels sick with guilt and worry: _fuck_, what if Danny decides she isn't safe around him anymore? What if Rachel hears about this, and restricts Danny's access?

Chin must realize that Steve is freaking out again. He heads back to his desk, and holds out the tray of rubber stamps they keep for little kids. "Want to come pick one, Grace?"

She lets go of Steve, and goes over to Chin. Danny then wraps his arms around Steve and rubs soothing circles into his back, just like it's 4am and Steve has woken up in a shuddering sweat.

"Hey, it's okay," Danny murmurs. "That wasn't your fault – in fact, I'm real proud of how you handled it. I love you, Gracie loves you, and we're not going anywhere. Everything's gonna be fine, okay?"

Steve swallows hard. "Thank you," he whispers.

At the music desk, Chin applies Grace's chosen stamp to the back of her hand. "Cool," she says, admiring the blue dolphin.

"And hey," Chin says, "we'll see the three of you Saturday for Kai's birthday luau, right?"

Grace perks up further as she nods. She and Chin's son have become close, and she spent an hour today choosing a present for him. Their friendship is a pure, positive thing for Steve to think about, and he relaxes a little more in Danny's embrace.

"C'mon, babe," Danny says, kissing Steve's cheek, "time to get out of here."

As they cross the store together, Steve is very glad to realize that no customers witnessed the shitstorm with Nick. Professor Lee is still sitting at the listening station; lost in the music, his eyes closed, he seems blissfully unaware of the outside world. Steve envies him.

Steve takes deep breaths as he gets his stuff together, looking around Mamo's. With Valentine's Day coming up, he's arranged some great literary romances and collections of love poetry on the central display table. The kids' picture books are a mess after Mrs. Keawe's visit, as always; he'll tidy them tomorrow morning.

Beside his desk is a box of paperbacks, waiting to be priced and shelved. Steve runs his fingertips over the pricing gun lying on top. It's the only weapon he wields anymore, and he's pretty much okay with that.

"I'm ready," he tells Danny. "Let's go."

* * *

**End.**


End file.
